


By the Edge of the Blade

by Danipow



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Drama, Humor, M/M, ruthari, slow-burn romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 81,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danipow/pseuds/Danipow
Summary: Before they became husbands, they were just two elves learning how to get along.A Ruthari origin story!
Relationships: Runaan/Ethari
Comments: 530
Kudos: 736





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The Silvergrove was alight with music, tonight.

Fireflies danced in the air, tiny sparks of gold illuminating the perpetual twilight of the quiet settlement. They wove their way around the colorful streamers that swept from one tree branch to the next, seeming to blink and bob in time with the reverent music––the perfect decoration for the immaculacy sculpted pillars of the public pavilion. The flowers woven around each pillar shimmered in response to the gentle glow of the fireflies, beautiful and ethereal, warm and welcoming.

And beneath them, surrounded by their closest friends and family, two elves exchanged a vow to bind their hearts together forever.

Far behind the crowds, hidden in the shadowed nook between two large bushes, Runaan watched with detached interest. Tiadrin and Lain had been sharing dreamy gazes for as long as he had known them. It was no surprise to see them finally sliding their wedding cuffs over each other's horns.

He was happy for them...but the pride he felt on their behalf was shadowed with a bittersweet wistfulness. There had been so many weddings, of late. So many couples walking along the streets with their hands clasped together, so many blissful smiles, gentle touches, lighthearted laughs.

Runaan was growing sick of it.

There was no logic to his annoyance. This was good, after all. The Moonshadow elves were thriving, prospering. Wasn't that what Runaan wanted? To see his people happy?

_...It must be nice, having someone to share your heart with._

The two fighters shared a kiss. The music swelled, and the crowd stood to bow in reverence to the holy union of two souls. Runaan inclined his head respectfully and pushed away from the pillar. He had been invited to share in the celebration, but observing from a distance was as far as he was willing to go.

Tiadrin and Lain would understand.

As the music took on a lighter, more festive beat, Runaan left the pavilion behind and started down the stone path that led upwards into the Craftsman's Cradle. The path opened into a wide road lined with simple, elegant structures: a woodcarver's workshop; an enchanter's laboratory; a papermaker's drying racks. Runaan passed them all with barely a glance, his attention fixed upon the chiseled archway built directly into the stone face of the hill Silvergrove had been build around. Already, he could hear the faint tink of metal striking metal, could smell the acrid wisps of smoke wafting out of the vent above the entrance. The blacksmith's forge was a busy one. Runaan rarely found it cold.

The heat of the forge pressed against him as he neared the entrance, and Runaan unhooked his sword from his belt and unfolded the blade from the hilt to lock it into position. "Faleth?" he called out. "Are you busy?"

From the back of the smithy, a broad-shouldered elf craned his neck to peer around a plume of smoke, lifting his goggles to squint at Runaan. Recognition lit his features, and he raised a hand in welcome as he thrust a length of metal into the glowing embers of the forge. "Come for a new blade?" he asked as he set down his tongs. "You're due for one, you know."

"The blade I have is reliable." Runaan set his sword upon the table beside the blacksmith. "But the balance feels off, lately," he continued. "I'd like to have it looked at."

Faleth joined him at the table and picked up the sword. He tilted it, rotated it, balanced it upon his finger to assess the problem. After a moment, he nodded. "Easy enough. I can get it back to you by the month's end."

"The month's _end?"_ The relieved smile that had started to rise at the blacksmith's agreement dropped in shock as Runaan gaped at the older elf. "I can't be without my blade for a month!"

"You have another one, don't you?" Faleth's gaze dropped down meaningfully to the second folded sword hooked to Runaan's belt, and Runaan clapped a hand to it possessively.

"It's no good without its mate," he shot back. "There must be something you can do."

Faleth sighed and set the blade back down. "Sorry, lad," he said. "I have far too much work to set aside just for you." He slid his goggles back over his eyes and jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the other side of the smithy. "Take it to Ethari. He can fix it up just as well as I can."

Runaan looked over to where Faleth was pointing. Seated at another work bench with his back to them, a much younger elf was bent over a sword, carefully etching runes into its fuller. Runaan's eyes narrowed. He turned back to Faleth to level a resentful scowl at him.

"An apprentice?" he demanded. "You would have me entrust my blade to an _apprentice?"_

"Journeyman," Faleth corrected. "And nearing the end of his training. He'll be taking over for me, soon enough." Faleth picked up the tongs and pulled the glowing orange length of metal from the forge. "Might be better than me, actually," he added in a bemused tone as he took up his hammer. "He's young, but the boy's an expert in his craft."

The hammer swung down to slam against the heated metal with a spray of sparks. Runaan stepped back, his fists clenching in irritation. His swords were an extension of his body. Every time he went out on a mission, those blades were his only insurance that he would get home safely. Only a _master_ blacksmith was fit to touch them!

Faleth hammered away the metal, ignoring Runaan's attempt to catch his gaze. The matter had apparently been settled, in his mind. Runaan started to speak, then paused to look behind Faleth. Nicked swords waited in a barrel nearby, each with a tiny tag indicating their owners tied around their hilts. Beside them was a table laid out with worn-down daggers, bundles of arrows, and stacks of papers weighted down with stone. Work orders, most likely. Runaan's gaze drifted over the partially completed set of armor laying in the corner and let out a heavy sigh.

_By the month's end. Unbelievable._

Runaan looked back towards Ethari––and with a hiss of annoyance, he snatched the blade from the table and stalked over to the other side of the smithy. "Hey," he said sharply. "You, there."

Ethari continued to work, seemingly oblivious to Runaan's voice. Scowl deepening, Runaan closed the distance between them and tossed his blade upon the table. Ethari jerked back in surprise as the metal clanked against his own sword, then snapped a startled look to Runaan. He wasn't quite as young as Runaan had first guessed; the length and smoothness of his horns indicated that he was near to Runaan's own age. Short white hair dusted across his forehead, a striking contrast to his dark skin. Other than that, he wasn't particularly noteworthy. Thick of build, plain features, oblivious to his surroundings...

Runaan's lip curled. "Fix this," he said simply.

A blank look overtook the confusion of Ethari's face. He looked at the sword, then at Runaan. "What's wrong with it?"

"You're the expert. Figure it out."

Runaan spun on his heel and strode back towards the archway. Eyes wide, Ethari pushed his chair back and stood. "Wait!" he called out. "Why––"

"I'll pick it up at dusk."

He crossed the threshold, vanishing around the arches with a flick of his ponytail.

Ethari starred after him, still trying to figure out what had just happened. Brows furrowing, he looked back at the sword that had been flung atop his work. He picked the blade up, and immediately felt its flaw: a barely discernable slant that indicated an imbalanced blade. He turned it over slowly, closing his eyes to feel out the source of the problem.

_Ah. There you are._

Ethari opened his eyes, a fond smile ghosting over his lips as he appraised the weapon. It was a good blade. A solid blade. But it was an _old_ blade, one that had been sharpened too many times. The balance between the length of the tang and the blade itself had grown strained.

 _Weapons like these are works of art,_ he thought wistfully. _It's a shame to see their glory fade over time._

"That boy needs a new blade," Faleth called out over the hiss of hot metal striking water. "I've told him that a dozen times, but he still clings to that one like a child's favorite toy."

With a low chuckle, Ethari gave the blade a few test swings as he walked over to the forge. "He has a child's temperament," he returned lightly. "Is he always like that?"

"Runaan's a stubborn one," Faleth grunted. "I suppose he's used to getting what he wants."

 _Runaan._ The corner of Ethari's lips tugged upwards in a sardonic smile as he thought back to the defiant flash in Runaan's vibrant green eyes. It had been as though he had been challenging Ethari to argue with him. With a shake of his head, Ethari held the blade up. "The pretty ones usually do," he chuckled. Faleth paused to cast him a withering look, and Ethari grinned. "What? I'm allowed to admire him, even if he is an ass."

Faleth snorted and began to measure the width of the blade he was working on. "Let me give you some advice, lad," he said. "Runaan isn't friendly. He can be civil when he's in a good mood, but he's not one to hold hands and stare lovingly into someone else's eyes while declaring his undying love for them. Don't let yourself get moon-eyed over him." Faleth held the blade to his eye and squinted down its edge. "He's got a hard heart, that one," he added. "If you work hard enough and earn enough of his trust, you might be able to get a smile out of him. Don't expect much more than that."

As Faleth spoke, Ethari's good humor faded steadily into quiet concern. Runaan sounded miserable. Cold, distrustful, unhappy... How could anyone live like that? 

Ethari conjured Runaan in his mind again, building up the narrow face, the long white hair braided back into a sweeping tail, the arrogant lift of the chin as he sneered and turned away. _Faleth's training me to be his successor,_ Ethari thought as he studied the sword again. _And this is the blade of someone who's obviously an active fighter. I may be seeing him a great deal in the future. Am I to expect to tolerate his unpleasantness all the while? Ugh. I'd rather make a friend out of him. I wouldn't want him to get use to throwing pointy objects at me._

With a soft sigh, Ethari looked back at Faleth. "How do I earn his trust?" he asked.

Faleth thrust the metal back into the forge. "By fixing his sword."

He went back to work. Lips pressed thin, Ethari wandered over to the archway. This close to dawn, the street was quiet. Most of the craftsmen who set up their shops here had already gone home to rest for the day. Soon enough, Faleth would begin closing up as well. Ethari's grip tightened on the sword as he looked towards the thin line of light in the distance that marked the end of another night. He'd need to get up early if he wanted to get the sword finished by sundown. Maybe it was time to head home as well.

He tilted his head in thought, then frowned in concentration. Was that music he heard? He perked his ears, listening closely until he finally made out a faint melody dancing upon the calm breeze. There were spots of color in the distance. Beneath the pre-glow of the coming dawn, Ethari could see the flicker of firelight coming from the pavilion. The music was emanating from its center. What was––

Ethari's mouth dropped open in horror. _The wedding!_

With a hissed curse, he darted outside––then skidded to a halt and ran back inside to drop the sword on his work station. He started to run outside again––and again swung around to return to his table. With another curse and a frantic scramble, he shoved items aside, looked under papers, opened drawers. Where were they? He'd just finished them that evening! Matching blades, both ornamental and functional, a wedding gift he had worked on for weeks to perfect...

_There!_

Ethari whisked two gleaming daggers out of the bottom drawer and spun around to run for the archway. "I'm leaving," he called out as he whisked past Faleth. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"But you haven't cleaned up your––

_"Tomorrow!"_

Ethari pounded down the road, the daggers clenched tightly in his fists. How had he managed to forget about the wedding? Tiadrin and Lain had been talking about it for months! He'd helped them plan it! Light of the Moon, he had even forged their wedding cuffs for them! They'd never forgive him if he missed the whole ceremony!

Ethari huffed as he ran. His legs were already burning, his lungs already protesting. He was strong, true, but not athletic. Ethari's muscles came from the forge, not from exercise. He was going to be out of breath by the time he reached the pavilion. Probably rumpled and sweaty. _Wonderful._ He'd look lovely with the addition of the soot and grime still clinging to his clothes from the night's work.

_They won't care. They know what I do for a living. They'll just be happy I showed up._

Ethari rounded a corner and slowed slightly as he spotted a figure walking further ahead of him. Long white hair, slender build, a graceful gait both casual and deliberate. _Runaan?_ _Damn!_ Ethari slowed further, rethinking his path to the pavilion. He didn't want Runaan to see him racing towards him and brandishing knives like some kind of lunatic. No telling how that might end. Was there a different path he could take?

There was a curve in the road up ahead. It wound its way down the hill, weaving like a snake to its base. Ethari shot a quick glance to the left, where the edge of the road overlooked the Market Square one level down. A few trees lined that level, their broad branches and lush leaves rising above the road Ethari ran along.

 _That'll do,_ Ethari thought. He veered off the road to vault onto a tree branch, intending to pick his way down to the Market Square below. He had seen warriors do things like this before, hopping from one branch to the next when they were in a hurry. They always made it seem effortless.

It was not.

As Ethari's weight struck the branch, it dipped and shuddered. With a startled yelp, Ethari lurched sideways, then sprang recklessly to a different branch in an effort to catch his balance. One foot caught the edge––and the other kicked against empty air. Ethari pitched forward, his arms flailing as he plummeted through the leaves. One branch knocked against his forehead; another caught him right in the gut, slowing his descent just enough to prevent him from cracking his skull as he slammed face first upon the dirt road beneath the tree.

For several seconds, Ethari laid still, too stunned to even _think_ of moving. Slowly, he let out a low groan and rolled to his side. That had definitely not gone the way he had planned...

There was a touch against his elbow. Wincing, Ethari looked up to see Runaan bowing over him.

_Aw, hell..._

"Are you hurt?"

It took a moment for Ethari to register that Runaan was talking to him. When the question pierced the fuzz of his mind, Ethari nodded, and winced again as his head throbbed at the movement. Runaan's fingers closed more firmly around his elbow.

"Be more careful," he admonished sternly. "One should not run with daggers unsheathed unless he intends to sink them into a target––nor should he use braches as stepping stones when he's obviously never trained to do so." He lifted Ethari's arm, forcing him to rise. Head pounding and face flushing hot, Ethari eased his way to his feet. Of _course_ this would happen to him. And of _course_ Runaan would be the one to witness it.

Runaan released his arm and stooped to retrieve the two fallen daggers. As he handed them back silently, Ethari hung his head in shame and began to clean the blades with the corner of his tunic.

"Am I to expect this level of care with my own weapon?"

Ethari looked up to find Runaan glowering at him in reproach. "I––no," he stammered. "These aren't––"

"And what would you have done if you had fallen upon one of those?" Runaan flicked his hand to gesture at the daggers. "Did you think about that at all? This early in the morning, when every sane person is looking towards bed and not a single soul would have been around to aid you?"

Ethari hung his head again, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "No," he mumbled. "I was just––"

"You are a fool." The long tail of Runaan's hair whipped against Ethari's arm as he turned sharply to walk away. "I expect my sword to be finished by sunset," Runaan said over his shoulder. "I won't be made to wait."

Ethari couldn't even look up. Ears burning in humiliation, he listened to Runaan's footsteps grow distant–– thankfully in the opposite direction Ethari had been headed. When he couldn't hear Runaan's footfalls anymore, he shoved the two daggers into his belt and turned away, trying his best to ignore the aches in his limbs.

 _No more jumping through trees,_ he thought ruefully. _He was right to admonish me. I could have fallen upon one of the daggers. Gutted myself. Bled out, assuming the fall itself didn't outright kill me. I'm glad Faleth didn't see that moment of idiocy; he'd never let me live it down!_

Taking a breath to steady himself, Ethari started down the road again. As he limped his way to his friends' wedding, one hand stole back to his arm, where he could still feel Runaan's touch tingling beneath his skin.

_A hard heart, huh?_

Ethari chanced a glance over his shoulder just in time to see Runaan round the curve of the road. From the way Faleth had spoken of him, Ethari wouldn't have expected Runaan to be so quick to help him stand. Maybe Faleth had been wrong about him. Maybe––

_Ugh. Maybe I hit my head too hard falling out of that tree._

Ethari grimaced and turned his attention forward. He could nurse his battered body and bruised ego later. The most important thing was to get to his friends' wedding, give them the matching daggers as a gift, and celebrate with them until the sun rose high enough to pierce through the veil of twilight that kept Silvergrove shrouded in shadows. By then, he'd be stuffed full of good food and better wine, and would be ready to sleep it all off well into the evening. It would put him behind on his work, but how often did he have a chance to attend a wedding between two of his dearest friends? Work would just have to wait.

And so would Runaan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going out on a limb here and making Moonshadow elves nocturnal.  
> Also, I am switching this fic's rating to Mature because I'm thinking ahead and realizing that future chapters might end up spicier than I planned for. I don't know, I'm kind of writing with a half-baked idea right now and hoping the fic will develop itself. Last time I did that, the rating turned Explicit.  
> So, uh. Yes, please keep that in mind from this point forward.  
> Also also, today I learned that Ethari used to be known as Tinker before the fans knew his name! Man, I feel like I've missed all the best theories and discussions by coming into this fandom late... ;_;

**Chapter 2**

Ethari stifled a yawn and ran the back of his wrist along his forehead. Between the heat of the forge, the early hour, and the residual fuzziness that came from a night of celebration, he felt as though he was about to fall asleep right there at his work table. Only the resonant clangs of Faleth's hammer kept him dozing off and falling out of his chair.

_Focus,_ he told himself firmly. He set aside his file and snapped the blade back into the socket of the handle, locked it into place, then held it out for inspection. Runaan's sword was well crafted, but the design was obviously not local. His accent had been odd, too, Ethari thought distractedly. Was he from one of the other settlements? Willowglen, perhaps?

Ethari rotated the blade slowly, then gave it a few test swings. The balance felt right. He doubted Runaan would be able to find any fault with it.

_He'd better not, after the headache this thing has given me..._

Ethari sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he cast a longing look out through the arches of the smithy. The sun was nearing the horizon, muted by the enchantment that kept Silvergrove shrouded in partial darkness. Soon enough, true darkness would take hold, and the moon would rise to prominence in the starlit sky.

He looked back down at the blade. A smile ghosted over his lips, and he picked up a buffing cloth to begin polishing it. It had been worth it to drag himself out of bed so early, he reflected in satisfaction. Working on a weapon like this was a privilege. The way the blade had been designed so it could fold into the handle was ingenious; already, Ethari's mind was already buzzing with ideas for how to incorporate similar mechanisms into his own designs. He was excited to begin drafting his first experiments.

"Is it completed?"

Ethari stood and turned quickly, his leg knocking against the back of his chair hard enough to send it scraping backwards. True to his word, Runaan was walking towards him with the final rays of sunlight haloing his body. Ethari's mouth went dry at the sight of him. Did Runaan have any idea how he looked with the gentle glow of twilight dancing upon his skin?

Runaan's eyes narrowed suspiciously at Ethari's attention. Realizing that he was staring, Ethari quickly looked down and cast the polishing cloth aside.

"It's, uh...yeah," he replied. "I just finished it. Uhm... Here." Ethari shoved the weapon into Runaan's outstretched hand and stood back as he looked it over. "The problem stemmed from sharpening nicks out of the blade," he explained as Runaan scrutinized his work. "Over time, it reduced the mass of the metal enough that the balance was affected. I compensated for that by filing down the base of the tang."

Runaan hummed absently. He folded the blade into the handle, then pulled it back out to lock it into place. His stance abruptly changed, and he swung the blade into the empty air, stabbing it and twirling it and arching it over his head with expert precision. Impressed, Ethari took another step back, and relaxed as Runaan finally gave a nod of approval.

"It'll do." Runaan snapped the blade back into the handle and unhooked its mate from his belt. "Here. You can work on this one next."

The second blade clanked upon the worktable. Ethari stared down at it, disappointment flooding into him. His jaw clenched, and he looked back to Runaan with a frown of reproach. "You could try thanking me," he prompted.

"Thank you."

Runaan was already turning away, his voice flat and disinterested. Ethari's fists clenched at his sides. That was it? _That pompous ass!_ He cast an accusatory glower at the blade waiting on his table and snatched it up. "No," he retorted.

Runaan halted. Slowly, he turned around to face him. "No?" came the quiet reply.

"No," Ethari repeated. "You say the words, but you don't feel them. You have no gratitude. Why should I help you again?" He held the collapsed sword out meaningfully. Over Runaan's shoulder, Faleth laid down his hammer to watch them both with a cautious frown.

_I can handle this,_ Ethari thought silently as he caught his master's gaze. _If he wants my help, he needs to learn how to appreciate it. And if he can't do that, he can take this sword and shove it up his––_

"Are you someone who needs to be paid with compliments and accolades?"

Ethari's attention shifted back to Runaan. As his words sank in, Ethari's resolve wavered. "I––no," he started, "but––"

"Then you'll withhold your favors from those who don't meet your personal standards of conduct." Runaan took a slow, deliberate step towards him, then another. Ethari's arm lowered, and he couldn't keep himself from backpedaling a pace as Runaan approached.

"That's not––"

"This is your job, Minari," Runaan interrupted. "It is your duty and your privilege to serve the people of Silvergrove, regardless of how well you get along with them. Do you really think you're entitled to receive gratitude for doing precisely what you're supposed to do?"

Though his voice was soft, there was a sharp, dangerous edge to it. Ethari's mouth worked silently for a moment, then clamped shut as he reminded himself that Faleth was still within sight. He was safe here. Runaan wouldn't be able to do anything to him. Taking a breath, Ethari straightened and threw his shoulders back.

"Ethari," he said.

Runaan's brilliant green eyes narrowed further. "What?"

"My name. It's Ethari."

The suspicion darkening Runaan's expression cleared for a moment, then settled into an unreadable mask. "Ethari," he said smoothly, and inclined his head in a token of acknowledgement. "I appreciate that you have repaired my sword for me. _Thank you."_ He offered a bow: a sweeping motion that somehow managed to be both respectful and mocking at the same time. Ethari hesitated at the sight of it, unsure whether or not he was being made fun of. Glancing down, he began to fidget with the sword he was holding. The handle was cracked, he noticed. And the hinges were beginning to corrode. This would take more than a simple filing to repair.

"You're hard on your weapons," Ethari finally said. "This one will need more work."

"Then I suggest you get started."

Runaan started to turn away again, then paused as his gaze lit upon a glimmer of silver half hidden under an array of papers and cleaning cloths. Brows furrowing, Runaan reached around Ethari to slide the item out into the open air. The elegant curve of the silver bow twinkled as the light of the forge struck it, making it look for a moment as though it was made of flames.

_A flame enchantment,_ Ethari thought distractedly _. I could do that. The right runes to imbue each arrow with the ability to inflict fire damage upon impact..._

"Did you make this?"

The half-formed idea flitted from Ethari's mind as he focused back on Runaan. His brows were arched, now, grudging respect lighting his features as he tested the grip. Ethari brightened at the chance to show off his work.

"I did," he replied. "The design was inspired by the way tendrils on vines curl as they begin to extend."

"Hmm..." Runaan held the bow out at arm's length and pulled his other arm back to mimic the position of drawing back the bowstring. After a moment's consideration, the interest vanished from his expression, and he lowered the weapon back to the table. "It's a lovely design," he said. "But it's impractical."

Ethari's shoulders slumped. "Impractical?" he echoed. "How so?"

"It's too heavy," Runaan said, "especially for someone already carrying other weapons. When I go on a mission, I need to move quickly––which means I must travel lightly. Something like this would be cumbersome."

"Oh." Ethari lowered his attention to the bow to reevaluate his design. Runaan was right. There was a reason bows were typically made of lightweight wood. Why had he thought silver would be a better alternative? Disappointed, Ethari nodded his reluctant agreement. "I suppose every bow has its drawback," he muttered.

There was a short huff of a chuckle beside him. Ethari looked to Runaan in surprise, just in time to see him hide a smile behind a crooked finger. Ethari's chest tightened for a moment. Before he could say anything, Runaan cleared his throat and looked away.

"I didn't come here to suffer through ridiculous puns," he said. "Your work on my sword is acceptable. I expect my other one to be attended to with the same amount of skill." He started to walk away, then paused to glance back at Ethari. "Have you recovered from your fall?"

"What? Oh, uh, yes, I––"

"Good." The corner of Runaan's lips quirked upwards the barest amount. "Then the repair shouldn't take too long. I'll see you at midnight." He inclined his head again. This time, there was no mockery in the gesture; only a twinkle of the eye and the slightest arch of one immaculately groomed brow. Runaan turned again, and as he disappeared through the arches and down the street, Ethari to stared after him with his mouth agape.

"He liked my work," he said softly––then broke into a smile and cast Faleth a gleeful grin from across the smithy. "He liked my work!" He spun around and swept his arm across the table to clear away space for the sword. If Runaan was only going to give him half of a night to finish it, he couldn't waste any time.

Behind him, his master's heavy footfalls thumped across the room. Faleth rested his palm upon the table beside Ethari's elbow and leveled a meaningful look at him. "I can see you're excited, lad," he said. "And I'm guessing it's not because of that sword you're holding."

Ethari's cheeks began to warm. He stooped his shoulders and fidgeted, pointedly avoiding eye contact, in the hopes that Faleth would take the hint and walk away. When Faleth remained right where he was, Ethari finally sighed and looked back at him. "I'm... Faleth, it's not fair," he complained. "Did you see the way his face lights up when he smiles? I only saw a flicker of it, and it was enough to make me forget my own name. If fixing his weapons can get me that again––"

"It's not worth the effort, boy. You're just going to get hurt."

Ethari hung his head. Faleth was right. Just because someone smiled at him didn't mean there was an underlying desire to become the best of friends. _I shouldn't get my hopes up,_ Ethari thought. _He's got a handsome face, yes, but...well, that's about it. I know nothing about him. He's demanding and arrogant and impatient and..._

_...and he helped me up. He asked if I was okay. He cared enough to check on me again._

_That's a start, isn't it?_

Ethari ran his fingertips along the handle of the sword and slowly extended its blade. "Runaan has a hard heart," he replied quietly. "I remember. But you know what else is hard? Diamonds. And he's got one inside of him. I know it."

Faleth heaved a heavy sigh and pushed away from the table. "Stubborn boy," he muttered as he returned to his forge.

"You know you love me." Ethari flashed him another grin and turned his attention back to the sword. He'd need to detach the blade from the handle, first. How was it fastened? Bolt and nut? _Ugh, clunky._ Where his is wrench? Ethari sifted around the mess scattered across his table, then paused as he started to move the discarded bow. What had Runaan said? That the bow would be to heavy for someone already carrying other swords?

_...What if the bow_ was _the sword?_

Ethari pulled the bow closer and began to turn it in his hands. A sword bow. What would that look like? _Sharpen the ends to turn it into a double-sided polearm,_ he thought, then shook his head. _No, the bowstring would get in the way. A split in the bow's grip? No, replace the grip with a full handle, turn the limbs into blades––_

_No, no, that wouldn't work. That would weaken the grip._

_....unless I add an enchantment to keep it secure..._

Ethari squinted in thought, then jerked upright and shoved the bow away from himself. What was he doing? He needed to focus on his actual job, not lose himself to hours of reinventing a perfectly good weapon! He rubbed his temples and forced himself to look for his wench, then began to disassemble the sword. As he began to unscrew the nut, his gaze drifted back to the bow. The curve of the bow limbs echoed the curve of Runaan's blade, he realized.

_A double-bladed bow._

_Lock the handles to form the grip._

_Attach the bowstring to the tips of the blades._

_...Attach the bowstring to the tips of the blades? What the crap, Ethari, that's the stupidest idea you've ever had! How would you even do that? By notching the blade and dulling the edge to keep the string from being severed? Grow a brain!_

Jaw tightening, Ethari popped out the bolt and started to work the blade free. _Concentrate!_ This sword needed to be perfect! The memory of Runaan's partial smile drifted back through Ethari's mind, and with renewed determination, he pushed the blade away to inspect the handle. Painted wood. Light, but not meant for heavy use. Was Runaan a scout, then? No matter. The split in the wood was going to become a weak spot, even if Ethari were to fill it. He'd need to carve a new handle and repaint it to look identical to the old one. Would Runaan notice?

_Of course he will. Don't try to hide it._

Ethari frowned at the handle. Then, slowly, a smile began to dawn upon his lips as a new idea struck him. As long as he was doing the carving and painting himself, there was no reason why he couldn't add something extra. Something Runaan would _have_ to notice.

Grinning to himself, Ethari dropped the handle upon the table and pushed away to search for his carving tools.

This was going to be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Runaan walked swiftly up the road to the smithy, a dagger twirling in his fingers as he went over the instructions he had received from his mentor. He had come to Silvergrove nearly a year ago to complete his training with her, but it was only recently that she had begun trusting him to complete solo missions. They weren't the high-profile kills he had been preparing for since his youth, of course; no sliding a dagger into a queen's throat in the dead of night, no kidnapping ambassadors or interrogating spies. Mainly she had been sending him off to gather intelligence.

But not this time.

_A scout to the west. Find him. Track him. Don't let him see you. If he gets too close to our territory, kill him. Bring back any documentation he may be carrying._

Runaan flipped the dagger in the air and caught it deftly. He was due to leave within the next hour. All he had left to do was to pick up his sword, drop off his dagger, and be on his way.

The oppressive heat of the smithy swept over him as he passed through the arches. A quick glance towards the forge found Faleth to be absent. In the far corner, however, he could see Ethari hunched over his work table, working diligently on whatever project had been set before him.

_I never see him at the anvil,_ Runaan abruptly realized. _What exactly is his specialization?_ He thought back to what he had seen on Ethari's table the last two times he had visited. There had been papers, of course. Schematics and scribbles, notes and diagrams. A scattering of tools meant for fine work. Crystals and a pot of glowing ink typically used for enchantment runes. Jars of acid, jars of dust, jars of polish.

_A little bit of everything, really._

Runaan let his gaze drift over Ethari as he approached. _Strong shoulders,_ he noted. He was obviously a hard worker. And skilled. The repair he had made on the previous weapon had been impressive, particularly given the age and condition it had been in. Runaan wasn't a fool. He knew he needed a new set of blades. Maybe it was time for an upgrade.

_Faleth's work is good,_ Runaan thought regretfully, _but not as good as the blacksmith back in Moonshire. Ethari has a great deal of potential, though. That bow was exquisite! It's a pity I have no use for it._

Ethari didn't look up as Runaan stopped beside him. As Runaan waited patiently to be acknowledged, Ethari blew a bit of metal dust off of the bracer he had been filing down and held it up to the light. "Not quite," he murmured softly. "Stubborn little rough spot. I'll smooth you down yet."

"It looks fine to me."

Ethari hitched in a sharp breath, his arms snapping closer to his body as he jerked away in surprise. The bracer fumbled out of his fingers and clanked against the table before cartwheeling towards the floor. With a tiny squeak of alarm, Ethari made a desperate grab for it, then wrenched himself upright as his stool began to wobbled beneath the shift in weight.

Runaan whisked a hand out to catch the bracer. Straightening, he lowered his gaze to the fine engraving on the rounded piece of metal. A series of knotted designs had been worked into the bracer, coiling organically around its shape. With a soft hum of interest, Runaan set it on the table. "You are remarkably clumsy for someone who can manage such intricate detailing," he said as Ethari stood from his seat.

"Uh...yeah." Face red, Ethari took the bracer and set it aside. He walked away from the table to a bench nearby, picked up an item, and returned to Runaan. Clearing his throat, he held it out. "I've, uh. Finished your sword."

Runaan only stared at it. A series of tiny white flowers had been looped around the handle, their stems interlocking at the hinge. Runaan slowly lifted his gaze. Ethari was watching him expectantly, his teeth bared in a bright grin.

Runaan's brows furrowed. He glanced back down, then snatched the blade away. The braided stems tore apart as he unfolded the blade, and as the flower petals drifted to the floor, he turned the weapon over suspiciously. The metal was smooth and polished, and the handle had been repainted. No, _replaced._ Runaan's grip tightened in annoyance at the presumption. Lips pursed, he gave the sword a few swings. The balance seemed good, at least. Acutely aware of Ethari's eyes upon him, Runaan whisked the sword through the air in a series of complex motions before lowering it with a nod. He supposed he could forgive Ethari for the unauthorized replacement and...

...and whatever the hell those flowers had been for.

"Well?"

There was a hopeful note in Ethari's voice. Runaan ran his fingertips along the newly sharpened blade, then folded it into the handle. "It's acceptable," he said.

Ethari's grin faded a little. "I, uh...made a few changes."

"Yes, I see that."

The smile dimmed a little more. Ethari's gaze skipped down to the sword, then back to Runaan's face. "So...what do you think?" he prompted.

"I think you're strange." Runaan fixed the sword to his belt. Beside him, Ethari seemed to deflate.

"Oh," he said quietly. "Well...if you have any questions about the––"

"The sword is fine, Ethari," Runaan snapped. "Are you looking for complements again? Yes, well done, expert work, you've outdone yourself. I'm so honored to be a recipient of such a fine repair." He flipped his dagger from its sheath and tossed it upon the table. "Here."

The dagger clanked as it struck the wood. Ethari picked it up curiously. "What's this?"

"It's generally referred to as a dagger," Runaan said. "The pommel is cracked. Replace it."

Ethari turned the dagger over to inspect the bottom of the hilt. His brows rose as he ran his thumb over the crack down its center, and he flashed another grin at Runaan. "What were you doing? Using it to crack nuts?

"Heads, actually." Runaan looked away, his gaze drifting idly over the display of partially finished weapons set up around the smithy. "Can you fix it or not?"

"Sure. I'll have it ready in two nights."

Runaan's attention shot back to Ethari. "I want it tomorrow."

"Then you should have brought it in yesterday."

The two of them stared at each other. There was no smile on Ethari's face, now. He met Runaan's gaze directly, challengingly, as though daring him to argue about it. Runaan's brow arched slightly. So Ethari had a backbone after all, did he?

_Good._

"Two nights, then," Runaan agreed. "Don't make me wait." He turned away and started out of the smithy. Just as he neared the arches, Ethari's voice called out.

"Hey, Runaan."

Runaan paused to look over his shoulder. Ethari was still standing beside his work table, one hand tapping the hilt of the dagger against his palm. For a moment, Ethari said nothing. Then, with a sigh audible from across the room, he pulled his stool back into place.

"A kind word costs nothing," he said as he sat back down. "Maybe you should consider that before being so miserly with them."

He turned his back to Runaan and picked up the bracer he had been working on. As he returned to filing the metal, Runaan narrowed his eyes at him. A kind word cost nothing? What was _that_ supposed to mean? Runaan had indicated his appreciation of the repair, hadn't he? Was Ethari actually berating him for not complimenting him enough?

_What did he want me to do? Compose a poem to his greatness and recite it upon a hilltop for all to hear? Squeal in delight like a child receiving a toy?_

His lip curling, Runaan walked back out into the street. He had no patience for people who needed constant reassurance. If Ethari truly intended to become a master blacksmith, he was going to need to learn how to accept criticism.

_Enough of this nonsense._ With a shake if his head, Runaan strode down the road to report to his mentor. He had a mission to complete. One night. Maybe two. He could afford to give Ethari the extra time to fix the dagger.

The mission took longer than expected.

Four nights after setting out, Runaan returned to Silvergrove. Tired though he was, he wasn't one to rest when there were tasks left to complete. He needed to give his mentor a report of his findings. Return home to change out of his torn up clothing and into something not covered with mud and brambles. Replenish his food stores.

Retrieve his dagger.

Runaan approached the smithy with a slower gait than normal, his muscles still aching from four nights worth of traveling by treetop. He stopped before the arches with an inward sigh as he looked over its threshold. To the far right, he could see Ethari crawling around on his hands and knees trying to reach for something under his work table. A scattering of metal fragments surrounded him. Either something had exploded or, more likely, he had dropped something delicate. Runaan turned his attention to the left and approached the anvil, where Faleth stood comparing two pauldrons.

"Faleth," he greeted. "It's good to see you. I dropped off a dagger––"

"Talk to Ethari." Faleth didn't look up. Runaan glanced back over to Ethari just in time to seem him start to straighten––and immediately crack the back of his head against the underside of the table. The corner of Runaan's lips started to twitch as Ethari grabbed his head, and he was quick to twist the flickering smile into a disapproving frown as he turned back to Faleth.

"There's no reason for me to have to speak to him," he returned over the hissing curses emanating from the corner. "I just want to pick up––"

"Ethari." Faleth set down one of the pauldrons, jabbed a finger towards his mentee, and turned his back to collect a hammer.

_Damn it..._

Scowling, Runaan took a breath and stalked across the smithy. "I'm here," he announced without enthusiasm.

Ethari was still rubbing the back of his head, but as he looked over his shoulder, his pained grimace brightened to a smile. Turning quickly, he stood to unearth a dagger from beneath a pile of other projects that had accumulate on his work table "You're late," he replied as he dusted off the blade.

"Not by choice." Runaan held out his hand. Ethari took a moment to admire his own work, then handed it over with a flourish and a slight bow.

It was covered in flowers.

Runaan frowned at the tiny white sprays of petals coiled around the hilt. _This again?_ Brows knitting together, he looked back up at Ethari. He has beaming again, apparently expecting some sort of reaction.

"Do you like it?" Ethari asked.

Runaan glanced back down at the flowers––and deftly tore them off to cast them to the floor. "I neither like it nor dislike it," he said. "It's just a tool."

Disappointment flickered across Ethari's features. "Some tools are special," he offered.

Runaan rolled his eyes and ran his thumb over the pommel to feel for the crack. It felt smooth enough. No sense in continuing the conversation, then. As he stuffed the dagger into its sheath without inspecting it, Ethari made an abortive move to stop him.

"You didn't even look––"

"Are you suggesting your work might not be satisfactory?"

Ethari paused at the question. Runaan could see the confusion on his face, could read the conflicting responses dancing behind Ethari's eyes as he attempted to come up with an appropriate response.

"I'm sure you would be very satisfied with it," Ethari finally said. "And a personal touch can make even the plainest tools extraordinary. Take a closer look."

He jerked his chin towards the sheathed dagger, and Runaan pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Enough compliment fishing, Ethari," he said sharply. "It's exhausting to listen to. You're obviously a skilled craftsman. This desperate need for reassurance you keep displaying is beneath you."

"But I wasn't––"

"What you lack is confidence, and gaining it from the admiration of others will do nothing but make you fragile against criticism. True strength comes from taking pride in your own accomplishments. Remember that."

An array of emotions played out over Ethari's face as Runaan spoke: confusion, anger, surprise––and then a thoughtful speculation that closed into a neutral mask. Runaan noted all of it, silently assessing the man standing before him. _He has such an expressive face,_ Runaan thought. _He's incapable of hiding his emotions. And his hands...clenching and twisting and flexing. His fingers betray everything his face does not. Moon save you, Ethari, should you ever find yourself captured and interrogated by an enemy agent. You'd crack in seconds._

Ethari drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do you have any more work for me?" he asked in a carefully modulated tone.

Runaan let out a mirthless huff and started to move away. "Not tonight," he said, then paused. Rolling his eyes upwards, he turned and offered what he hoped was a respectful nod. "Thank you for the repair, Ethari. I appreciate it."

He had the satisfaction of watching Ethari's expression blossom in surprise. Was that all it took to please him? _Fine._ Strong through Ethari physically appeared to be, he was obviously fragile of character. Runaan would make a point of softening his farewells in the future.

He had no interest in crushing anyone's spirit.

Runaan returned home, and over the next several days returned to the smithy to request new items to replace his admittedly worn out collection of weapons.

"How quickly can you make me a set of caltrops?"

"Give me enough ball bearings to fill this pouch."

"I need a grappling hook capable of being folded flat when not in use."

"Why don't you have any stilettos? Are they too difficult to make?"

With each request, Runaan was met with a cheerful greeting and an quick agreement. With each return, he was presented with an eager grin and an item covered in white flowers. And with each departure, he left Ethari behind with a fading smile and a disappointed silence.

_Flowers,_ Runaan thought in disgust as he walked into the smith for what felt like the hundredth time. _It's like he's actually expecting me to gasp and admire them. If I want flowers, I'll go to the garden district. Or the apothecary, preferably. I need update my stock of poison supplies. Can't even give me useful flowers to use as ingredients..._

He walked past Faleth with barely a nod of acknowledgement and crossed his arms as he halted beside Ethari's table. "I'm here for the arrows I requested," he said shortly. "Where are they?"

Ethari didn't look up. He remained hunched over his work, setting a sparkling purple gem into ring with a pair of thin tweezers and carefully nudging it until it was centered within its bezel. Setting down the tweezers, he looked towards the display table nearby and gestured towards it. "There're over there."

Runaan waited for him to stand up and retrieve them, as he usually did. When Ethari not only remained seated, but began folding the edges of the bezel over the gem, Runaan frowned. Was he to fetch them himself, then? Honestly, the laziness of some people... He moved to the table and looked over the clutter until he saw a bundle of arrows tied with two pieces of twine. Runaan picked them up, and as his gaze drifted over them, his brows drew together. He didn't see any flowers.

"Is this it?" he asked.

Ethari paused just long enough to cast him a disinterested glance. "Did I not make enough?"

Runaan stared at him for a moment, then lowered his eyes to the arrows. The arrowheads were perfectly even, the silver shafts straight and strong. Even the fletching had been trimmed to identical lengths. They were flawless. "They're...fine," Runaan replied slowly. "Thank you." He tucked them into the quiver he had brought with him and started to speak, only to fall silent when he saw that Ethari had turned his attention back to his work. An uneasiness fell upon him. This behavior was out of the ordinary for Ethari. Runaan didn't like unexpected changes like this.

He took a step backwards. "I won't be troubling you for the next several days," he said aloud. "I'll be away on a mission."

"Stay safe."

Ethari reached up to pluck a flat wooden board off of the shelf above his head and set it on the table. As he selected a brush and a pot of enchanting ink, Runaan took another step back. _He's dismissing me,_ he realized. A momentary flash of anger raced through him, then cooled to an uncertain distrust. This was some sort of trap. Ethari was waiting for him to ask about it.

_He must think me some sort of fool._

Jaw set in resolution, Runaan turned and left the smithy. He wasn't going to let himself be manipulated by a clumsy, attention-seeking novice.

By the time he reached his home, Runaan's righteous indignation had cooled to curious speculation. He swung the strap of the quiver off his shoulder as crossed the threshold of his door, and withdrew the bundle of arrows to inspect them again. Maybe he had just overlooked Ethari's usual offering. The flowers he chose were always so tiny, after all. What kind were they, anyway? Runaan wasn't overly familiar with flowers that had no practical use.

It didn't matter. The arrows were unadorned, save for the twine keeping them fastened together.

Runaan carried them into his weapons room, where shelves of poisons, potions, armor, and blades were kept carefully organized. "This is ridiculous," he muttered as he laid out the arrows upon the table to count them. "I don't know why I'm even thinking about it. I asked him to do a job, he did it, and now it's done. Simple, quick, concise. That's how I like things. He gave me exactly what I wanted. No unnecessary conversations, no obvious attempts to solicit favorable reviews, no frivolous decorations that need to be picked apart. Just the arrows. Nothing more, nothing less."

He stared down at the arrows. They glinted in the gentle light of his moonglow lantern, somehow appearing both beautiful and plain. It was... _unsettling._

Runaan shifted his gaze to the wall, where two hooked pegs held aloft one of his swords. It was the second one Ethari had repaired, and the first to be decorated with flowers. Ethari had seemed so proud of himself. For what? A bit of trimming and a new handle? Runaan hadn't even _asked_ for a new handle!

He plucked the sword off the wall and held it to the light. It had been carved well, he had to admit. The grip was better. More comfortable. And the original design had been perfectly replicated. Even the paint job was expertly applied. "There's an artist hiding somewhere under those muscles of yours," Runaan mused quietly. "I wonder why you chose to pick up a hammer instead of a paint brush? Almost seems a waste to––"

He paused. His eyes narrowed, and his inclined slightly to squint at the base of his blade. Was that a scratch? Runaan sidestepped to stand directly beneath the lantern. No, it wasn't a scratch.

It was a rune.

Runaan ran his finger along smooth metal. As his fingertip grazed along the rune, the elegant design pulsed a brief blue. It was an active enchantment. Had Ethari done this? Runaan rubbed his chin, irritated that someone had taken liberties with a personal weapon. Then again, enchantments were typically beneficial. What was this one? Runaan wasn't familiar with runes. The few spells he cast were of the pre-enchanted variety that allowed him to simply activate an existing spell prepared by someone else. He closed his eyes and thought for several moments, trying to recall the magic lessons of his youth. This rune was...

_Strength._

His eyes popped open. He had noticed that swinging this particular sword had seemed easier than before. He had assumed that the newly sharpened blade had made cutting through things easier. Had it been the enchantment making his swings stronger?

Runaan replaced the sword and took down its mate to scrutinize. Had Ethari put a rune on this one as well? Runaan took several seconds to look for one, turning the blade over and over again.

Nothing.

_Hmm._

"This one didn't come with flowers, though," he reminded himself as he mounted it back upon the wall. "But the others..."

On a hunch, Runaan took down his dagger and turned it over in his hands. The blade was free of additions. Sighing, Runaan started to put it back––then flipped it over to look at the pommel.

_Ah. There it is._

There, etched directly onto the polished jade embedded into the dagger's hilt, was the rune for 'speed'.

_I'll be able to slash and stab faster during close combat. That could give me a great advantage in a fight. What else did I give him?_

Runaan spent the next several minutes relocating and assessing everything he could remember having received from Ethari. Sure enough, every item that had been returned with flowers had also been enchanted. 'Luck' on the grappling hook. 'Piercing' on the caltrops. Even the bag of ball bearings carried the 'silence' rune––not on the ball bearings themselves, but embossed directly onto the leather pouch used to carry them.

Runaan set the bag down and stepped back from the table, mystified by his discovery. Slowly, he sank down onto the chair nearby, his fingers tapping against his lips as he thought back to everything Ethari had ever said to him. Every hopeful grin, every effort he had made to get Runaan notice his changes...

Every disappointed expression he had made when Runaan had walked away without commenting on them.

_I was wrong,_ Runaan realized. _He wasn't looking for praise. He was looking for friendship. And I rebuffed him each time. He kept trying to tell me, and I kept interrupting him and insulting him. I thought..._

He ducked his head and rubbed angrily at his face. "What was I doing?" he hissed. "I was irritated at Faleth for turning me away, so I took it out on Ethari. And then I _kept_ taking it out on him. He didn't deserve that. I should have known better. I should have _been_ better."

He let out a deep sigh and looked back at the arrows. Without much expectation, he picked one up and ran his gaze along the polished metal. No flowers. No runes. Not even a smile.

Ethari had given up.

Runaan slapped the arrow back upon the table and shoved himself to his feet. "Now what?" he demanded of himself as he swept the arrow back into a bundle and stuffed them into his quiver. "I'll be seeing him again in the future. What am I supposed to say to him? Thank you? I'm sorry? Nothing?"

He hung the quiver up alongside his bow and stepped back to survey the room with an accusatory glower. "That damn idiot," he muttered. "Why couldn't he have just made the repairs I asked for and left it at that? Why did he have to make things awkward for me?" Runaan's jaw tightened. That's right...it was Ethari's fault. No one had asked him for extra favors. Giving someone a secret gift and then getting upset over them not noticing it was childish. He'd set himself up for disappointment––and now Runaan would look like some kind of selfish bastard for taking the gifts and spurning the friendship that had been offered with them!

The anger quickly faded, and a thread of guilt began to wind its way through him. Runaan wasn't blind to his own faults. He was a naturally abrasive person, someone who had no patience for nonsense and frivolities. He wanted to be taken seriously. To be looked to as an authority who could make hard decisions without hesitation.

That mindset didn't always translate well to 'friendly'.

_I should make amends._

The thought was a reluctant one, and Runaan winced as it drifted through his mind. He wasn't good at apologies. Especially when he didn't believe he had done anything wrong. Still, the memory of Ethari's smile fading to disappointment was hard to banish. Runaan knew he wouldn't be able to use his weapons again without the guilt distracting him. He needed to clear things up.

Somehow.

Eventually.

Runaan rubbed his temples tiredly and walked out of the room.

Even from afar, Ethari was managing to give him a headache.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"You," Tiadrin said sternly, "are an idiot."

Runaan scowled. All around him, decorations were being set on display for the three nights celebrating Moon's Rise. The cheery displays were beautiful and colorful––and only served as yet another reminder of the dark cloud that seemed to follow Runaan everywhere he went. "I didn't ask for your assessment of my personal attributes," he muttered, and beside him, Tiadrin snorted her opinion of him.

"Too bad," she said bluntly. "I can't believe you, Runaan. Ethari's sweetest elf in Silvergrove! Why would you think he deserved that?"

_"I don't know!"_ Runaan exclaimed. "And it doesn't matter! It's already happened, and now it needs to be fixed. Tell me how to fix it."

Tiadrin leveled a disapproving look at him out of the corner of her eye. She took a moment to brush her fingers along her short hair, then shifted to bounce Rayla to a higher position against her chest. The baby burbled a soft response, one tiny hand waving in the air. With a fond smile, Tiadrin slid her finger into Rayla's grasp and wiggled her hand, then shot a frown back at her friend.

"I'm surprised at you, Runaan," Tiadrin said. "You usually pride yourself on being able to solve problems all on your own."

"I..." Runaan sighed and swept his hands over the top of his head, the dropped them heavily to his sides. He pursed his lips as two elves approached them on the road they walked along, and lowered his voice once they passed by. "This is a bit beyond me," he admitted. "And you said you know him. I assume you're familiar enough with his personality and habits that you can give me advice. You do so _love_ giving me advice," he added dryly.

_"Pfft._ I give you advice all the time. And you never listen to me. That's why you keep pissing people off." Tiadrin shifted Rayla again and tilted her face up to admire a string of twinkling silver disks strung between two trees. Runaan looked up automatically to see what she was looking at, then rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Well, I'm listening now," he said. "I've explained the problem. Tell me the solution."

Tiadrin slowed to a stop. "Here," she said. "Hold Rayla. My arms are getting tired." Before Runaan could object, she shoved the baby into Runaan's hands. Runaan quickly hooked his fingers around the bundled body and held her at arms length as Tiadrin pulled away. Rayla's lavender eyes fixed momentarily on his face, then slid away, her mouth dropping open as her head fell back to watching the flashing lights of the silver disks. Runaan stared at her for a moment, then shifted a glance to Tiadrin.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" he demanded.

"For starters, don't dangle her in the air like you're showing off a fish you just caught." Tiadrin crooked her arms to mimic cradling a baby. "Hold her close. Make her feel safe."

Runaan hesitated. He wasn't particularly comfortable handling children. Slowly, carefully, he rotated Rayla to tuck her into the crook of his arm. She turned her eyes towards him again, and her face split with a sudden smile and a thin giggle. The corner Runaan's lips tugged upwards in response, and he was quick to clear his throat and look away.

"There, see?" Tiadrin said. "You're a natural. Isn't he, Rayla? Yes he is. _Yes he is."_ She hunched closer to her daughter as she cooed and fluttered her fingertips against the underside of Rayla's chin. Rayla giggled again, her legs kicking against the inside of her wrap. Beaming in pride, Tiadrin straightened and began walking again.

For a couple of minutes, they walked along the road in silence, taking in the sight of Silvergrove being slowly transformed for the Moon's Rise festival. The polished plating of Tiadrin's day to day armor rattled quietly as she walked; even in the safety of Silvergrove, she refused to go anywhere without protection. "It's good exercise," she had once confided to Runaan. "If you get used to wearing armor every day, you won't notice the extra weight in battle."

It was solid advice.

Runaan looked back down at Rayla. Though her eyes were closed, she continued to wriggle her limbs and scrunch her face. Would she become a warrior like her parents, Runaan wondered. There would always been a need for fighters. Rayla had the potential to be a strong one, if her blood held true.

"You remember when we first met?"

Runaan broke out of his musing to glance at Tiadrin, who knocked her elbow playfully against his.

"You'd just come to Silvergrove," she reminded him. "You were acting all high and mighty, and looking at the rest of us like we were mud under your feet. Remember?"

Runaan thought back to his arrival a year earlier. "It took a while for me to get adjusted," he agreed slowly. "Life along the boarder is a great deal different than back home. You were meant to get me acclimated." He offered a knowing smile. "I imagine I made things quite difficult for you."

"You aren't lying," Tiadrin chuckled. "You were an absolute headache. Still are, sometimes." She knocked his elbow again, this time harder. "The two of us didn't get off to a good start either, though. And _now_ look at us!" She spread her arms and bounced her eyebrows at him, and Runaan couldn't keep himself from laughing.

"I suppose I've gotten used to your constant nagging and incessant attempts to tell me what to do," he replied lightly.

"I––" Tiadrin dropped her arms and stabbed a finger at him. "Okay, we'll need to discuss that later. That's a whole other conversation. But for right now, I want you to remember how you treated me when we first met. You thought it was insulting to have me assigned to you, remember? You were upset that your guard-slash-liaison was waddling around holding her belly, and every day you'd complain that you hadn't been partnered with someone 'better suited to the role of a warrior'. You didn't think I could keep up with you."

Runaan's brows rose steadily as she spoke, and it took a few moments for him to recall the insults. "Oh, that's right," he finally said. "You were huffing and puffing like you were close to passing out at any given moment. I didn't realize you were pregnant."

"And do you remember what you said when I told you?" Tiadrin twisted her face up into a comical scowl and pitched her voice as low as she could. "'That's not _my_ fault,'" she sneered.

Runaan chuckled at the imitation. "At which point you informed me that the Kingdom of the Sunfire Elves would freeze thrice over before you ever _let_ it be my fault," he replied. "Yes, I remember."

"You were blushing so hard, I thought your horns would burst into flames."

"I did not––"

"Look, Runaan." Tiadrin stopped walking and held out her arms in a silent request to take back her daughter. "The point is, you didn't start respecting me until I made it clear I wasn't going to put up with your crap. And that's not how it should be. Any time you meet someone new, you should be courteous. Respectful. Open to learning about them. You don't do that. You treat everyone as though they might be plotting something against you, and expect them to prove that they can be trusted."

Runaan's good humor faded as he handed Rayla back and watched Tiadrin walk on without him. He trailed after her, absently tugging on one of the long sidelocks framing his face. It was a bad habit, and he quickly forced himself to lower his hand. "I don't believe everyone's plotting against me, Tiadrin," he said quietly.

"No?" Tiadrin cast a look over his shoulder at him. "What did you tell me a few minutes ago? You said the way Ethari kept smiling at you seemed suspicious. You thought maybe he gave you those runes because he wanted you to owe him a favor. Moon above, Runaan, you outright asked me if Ethari might be manipulating you. _You don't trust people!"_

_"Because people aren't trustworthy!"_ Runaan shot back. "They––" He stopped and drew in a deep breath. "Never mind that," he said more calmly. "We've already established that Ethari was being both friendly and generous, and that I failed to treat him accordingly. I need to mend the wounds I've caused, so if you would kindly tell me the appropriate gift to send him as an apology, we can both get on with our respective nights."

"Oh, Runaan," Tiadrin sighed. "Runaan, Runaan, Runaan." She slowed her steps to let him catch up and offered a wry smile. "Listen to me. I'm not just your favorite sparring partner and occasional tour guide. I'm your friend. And as your friend, I tell you this with the greatest amount of love and respect." She paused and waited until she had his full attention before she bluntly continued. "Your head is full of shit, and it spills out of your mouth every time you speak."

Runaan gaped at her in shock, and Tiadrin shrugged. "Listen to what you just said. You admitted that you caused a problem, and you want to solve it by asking someone else to assign you an item to collect, which you then intend to deliver without even showing your face. You can't stealth your way out of an apology, Runaan. Face the problem head on. I want you to walk straight up to Ethari, look him in the eye, and tell him you're sorry. You won't even need a gift. The apology will be enough to make his day, I promise."

Runaan winced uncertainly. Of _course_ that would be Tiadrin's advice. She was a warrior; she solved her problems by charging into battle screaming and waving a sword. But that wasn't Runaan's way. He was trained to resolve his conflicts subtly, with as little interaction as possible.

The less interaction, the less room for messy errors.

_But this isn't a mission,_ he reminded himself. _And this isn't the sort of court intrigue that needs to be danced around. Maybe Tiadrin is right. Maybe the direct approach would be best in this situation. But..._

"An apology is just words, Tiadrin," he said aloud. "They have no meaning without a gesture of good will to accompany them."

"Not if you do it right." Tiadrin halted again and spun on her heels to face him. "Go on, then. Let's hear it."

Runaan stared at her blankly. "Hear what?"

"The apology." Tiadrin waved her hand at him encouragingly. "Close your eyes and pretend I'm Ethari. What will you say to me?"

Runaan glanced around. They were alone on the road. "This is ridiculous," he muttered.

"Do it, Runaan." There was a hard note in Tiadrin's voice now. She was a woman with a strong will, and Runaan had bent to it more times than he cared to admit.

Now would be no different.

With a heavy sigh, Runaan closed his eyes and envisioned Ethari standing before him. Strong shoulders, gentle eyes, hopeful smile... Why did he have to look like that? Even the recollection was enough to send a new wave of guilt flooding into him.

Runaan's jaw clenched. The sooner he got this over with, the better.

"I...would like to apologize for my behavior of late," he began stiffly. "I realize that I may have been harsh with you, and that you did not deserve my previous criticism. I was wrong to make assumptions. It is my hope that I can make up for the...misunderstanding?" He cracked an eye open to seek verification. Tiadrin winced and cocked her head, but nodded and motioned for him to continue. Runaan closed his eye again. "Though I have attempted to solicit advice from a mutual acquaintance in regards to how best to do this, she has failed to offer any manner of solution, and has indeed spent the better part of an hour berating me on your behalf."

Tiadrin huffed as he opened his eyes to smirk at her. "We'll leave out that last part," she said.

"The rest of it was adequate, then?"

"It'll do." Rayla began to fuss, and Tiadrin bounced her gently, shushing her and clucking her tongue. She started to walk again, and as Rayla settled back down, Runaan followed after her. "Ethari's the kindest, most forgiving person you'll ever meet, Runaan," Tiadrin said as they walked. "Sure, he gets angry. We all do. But he never _stays_ angry. If you can tell him exactly what you just told me, this whole thing will smooth right over. You'll see. Try not to look so constipated when you do it, though," she added wryly. "Looked like squeezing out every word was an immense effort for you."

The coarse assessment caught Runaan off guard. With a frown of dismay, he pointedly lifted his chin with haughty huff. "I don't know why I enjoy your company."

"I've wondered the same thing." Tiadrin halted and extended an arm grandly to his side. "All right, here we are."

Runaan slowed in confusion. They were standing beside a simple wooden structure with a door painted bright green. "Where?" he asked. "What's this?"

"This," Tiadrin returned brightly, "is a house. People live in them. Ethari, specifically."

Runaan's brows drew together––then jumped high in realization. "You've brought me to his _house?"_ He hunched slightly, already casting his gaze about in anticipation of an ambush.

"Potentially." Tiadrin gave the door a dubious look. "I've only been here a couple of times, actually. Never been inside. I'm pretty sure this one's his, though. _Get back here."_ She snagged Runaan's sleeve as he started to back away and yanked him forward. "I didn't bring you here to admire the paint job. Give it a knock."

"I'm not knocking on his door."

"Do it!"

"I refuse!"

Tiadrin shoved Rayla against his chest. As Runaan scrambled to secure her before she could fall, Tiadrin turned to bang her fist upon the door. _"Ethari!"_ she called out "Ethari, are you home? Stop looking for an escape, Runaan," she hissed. "I will hunt you down and drag you back by your horns, if I have to."

_She probably would._ Runaan looked past her down the road, already judging how far he'd have to run before he reached the safety of the trees. Tiadrin would have a difficult time chasing him through the branches with the armor she insisted on wearing. The only thing that would slow him down was Rayla. Damn Tiadrin! She'd saddled him with a baby on purpose! He scowled down at Rayla, who made a soft, _"nuh, nuh, nuh"_ sound before coughing. Some of Runaan's annoyance faded. It wasn't Rayla's fault her mother was a harridan.

Tiadrin knocked again, waited, then fell back with an exasperated sigh. "Guess he's not home." She chewed her lip for a moment, then looked down the road at the next house. "Let's check that one, then."

Runaan snorted as she began to walk away. "Do you intend to knock on every door until you find him?"

"Like you had any other plans for the night," Tiadrin retorted. Runaan chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders as it became apparent that Tiadrin really had no idea where Ethari might be. Fine, then. He'd humor her for a few minutes, and then––

"Tiadrin?"

The smooth, lilting brogue sent a cold chill down Runaan's spine. He spun around, his arms stiffening at the sight of the elf walking towards them. Ethari paused as he recognized Runaan in turn. His fingers tightened on the stack of baskets he was carrying, his eyes darting from Runaan to Tiadrin in an almost desperate look of inquiry.

Rayla began to whine. Realizing he was holding her too tightly, Runaan quickly passed her back to Tiadrin, who accepted her with barely a glance. "Good evening, Ethari," she greeted brightly. "I hope you're well?"

"I am, thank you," came the polite reply. "What of you? And who's that with you? Is that little Rayla?" Ethari's face dawned with delight. Ignoring Runaan entirely, he closed the distance between them and set down the baskets before bowing over the baby cradled in Tiadrin's arms. "Look how big she's gotten!" he explained. "She was just a tiny little thing when I saw her last. May I hold her?" Tiadrin laughed and extended her arms. Ethari took Rayla with a friendly coo and gave her a gentle bounce. "Look at that brilliant smile," he murmured, and looked up eagerly at Tiadrin. "Have her horns started coming in yet?"

"Not yet. Give her another few months, though. We can look forward to all sorts of fussing and crying."

"And then comes the teething."

Tiadrin leveled a dismayed look at Ethari. "Great," she said flatly. "Thanks for reminding me. I hadn't been dreading that at all."

As she spoke, Runaan began to back away. Tiadrin grabbed his elbow and pulled him back. "So," she said smoothly, "I understand the you and Runaan haven't been getting along. Since the two of you are already here, why not talk it out? Runaan, did you have something you wanted to say to Ethari?" She gave Runaan's back a shove, forcing him to take a step closer to Ethari. Runaan dug in his heels, his entire body tensing as Ethari turned an expectant look towards him.

"Uh...yes," he said. "I..." He cleared his throat uncomfortably, then squared his shoulders and took a breath to fortify himself. "I noticed that several of the weapons I acquired from you had enchantments added to them," he began formally. "I––"

The apology that Runaan had practiced earlier flitted from his mind. He faltered, as he scrambled to recall the right words. He was already screwing up! _This was why he hated direct confrontations!_

"I'm sorry."

The mad rush of Runaan's mind jerked to a halt. He stared at Ethari, not entirely certain of what he had heard. As he tried to make sense of the simple statement, Ethari continued.

"I know I should have asked before altering your property beyond what you asked of me," he said. "I meant for them to be gifts, but...I guess I was probably making you uncomfortable, wasn't I? So...I apologize."

Ethari held Rayla against his shoulder and rubbed her back, his eyes averted as he tucked his face against her head. Runaan's mouth worked silently for a moment before he finally managed a bewildered, "I accept your apology."

Ethari's head popped up, and his face lit in relief. "We can start over, then," he offered eagerly. "If you want me to remove the runes, bring them back any time. I'll put it ahead of anything else I'm working on!"

Runaan chanced a glance at Tiadrin. Her eyes wide, her brow was drawn low in a straight line, and her mouth was pinched as though she had sucked upon something sour. She looked as though she was trying to set Runaan's head aflame with the power of her mind alone.

_Crap._

"Ah...no, actually," Runaan amended. "I'll need to retract my forgiveness."

Ethari stared at him, his face slowly falling into a familiar expression of disappointment. "Oh," he said quietly. "Uh. I'm not really sure what else I can say––"

"No, that's not––" Runaan rubbed his face irritably and tried again. "What I meant to say is that I can't forgive you because there's nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong, Ethari. I didn't even notice the runes, at first. I just made an incorrect assumption that you were being a braggart, and I treated you poorly based on that ignorant observation. You have been nothing but kind to me, and I've been..." Several possible word choices popped to mind, none of them particularly complimentary. Runaan hesitated, then started over. "I came here to apologize to you, Ethari. And to make amends, if possible. That is all."

A slow smile ghosted over Ethari's lips. He let his hand drift up to stroke the fine tuft of white hair crowning Rayla's head and shrugged. "Well...I tampered with your weapons, and you acted like an ass," he replied. "So let's call it even."

It didn't feel even.

Brows drawn together, Runaan stared at Ethari, still not entirely certain of him. He was too quick to forgive. Too easy to please. What kind of person was Ethari, that he would tolerate abuse without complaint and still extend the hand of friendship?

_I'll never be like that,_ Runaan realized abruptly. _Is that the kind of person I've become, that I can't trust genuine kindness? What kind of person am I, that I would be so quick to assume the worst of someone, and then show them the worst of myself in return?_

He looked to the ground and cocked one foot out to pretended he was inspecting his boot. He couldn't look at Ethari in the eye.

_He's not even saying anything. Why isn't he saying anything? Say something, damn it!_

Tiadrin shifted her gaze between the two of them for a moment as she waited for the awkward silence to pass. When the silence only lengthened, she finally flung her arms up to catch their attention. _"Whew!"_ she exclaimed loudly. "Would you get a whiff of that! Smells like Rayla's done enjoying her breakfast. I'll just take that..." She took Rayla from Ethari's hands and settled her against her shoulder as she began to back away. "Ethari, I'll see you at the festival, she said as she turned. "Come on, Runaan. I'll teach you how to change baby linens."

"Oh." Ethari looked as though he wanted to hold Rayla a little longer, his arms extending after her for a few moments before slowly falling back to his sides. "Okay, then. See you both at the festival!"

"Bye!" Tiadrin waved at him and then set off at a brisk pace. Not wanting to be left alone, Runaan gave Ethari a cordial bow of farewell before trotting after her.

"I have no intention of changing Rayla's linens," he hissed in an undertone.

"What, you want to go back to stand in front of Ethari's house and stare awkwardly at him for another hour?" Tiadrin returned.

"Of course I––" The heat drained out of Runaan's voice before he could finish the sentence. _"Oh,"_ he amended in realization. "It was an excuse to bow out of the conversation. Clever." He chuckled and straightened as he matched her pace. "I actually believed you intended to have me change a baby's soiled sanitary wrap, Tiadrin."

"Oh, that's still happening. Welcome to the world of commoners."

Runaan scowled. "Tiadrin, I'm not––"

"You're coming to the festival, right?" Tiadrin quickened her pace so she could get ahead of Runaan, and spun to begin walking backwards. "Come on, Runaan," she urged. "You owe me a dance. Don't think I didn't notice you lurking in the shadows at my wedding. Why didn't you come over and talk to us?"

Runaan's nose wrinkled. "I don't care for crowds," he said flatly.

_"Pfft._ Get over it." Tiadrin spun around again to walk forward. "I'll see you there, Runaan. No arguments."

With a chuckle, Runaan shook his head. "Bossy nag," he said fondly. "Just as I told you."

"Just for that, you owe me _two_ dances. And a meal."

"A _greedy_ bossy nag."

"Three dances, a home cooked meal, and one day of babysitting Rayla." Tiadrin slanted a sly grin over her shoulder. "Go on, Runaan. Call me something else. I've got a whole list of errands I'd be happy to unload."

With his eyes rolled upwards, Runaan heaved a theatrical sigh. "You're lucky I like you," he said tiredly.

"I was about to say the same thing." Tiadrin waved and broke into a trot. "Fine, forget about Rayla's linens," she called over her shoulder. "But I expect to see you at that festival. No excuses. _And save me a dance!"_

She ran off ahead of him, and Runaan continued onwards at a sedate pace. Irritating as Tiadrin could be, she was a good friend. And despite his own protests, Runaan was glad he had asked her advice. He didn't think his apology would have gone as well as it had, left to his own devices.

_I'll need to avoid him for a few days, of course. By then, the unpleasantness will have lost its edge, and the both of us can pretend it never happened._

Ethari's smile flashed through Runaan's mind again. Another shiver prickled along his shoulders, this time warm and comforting. An answering smile began to tug at his lips, and Runaan quickly pressed his fingers to the corners of them to contain it. It was bad enough Tiadrin and Lain had already managed to crack through his armor. Runaan couldn't let himself get that familiar with every person he came into contact with, just because they had a charming smile and pretty eyes. The more friends he had, the more liabilities he had. Liabilities would inevitably lead to hesitation.

And hesitation was the most dangerous enemy there was for an assassin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The festival was beautiful.

The open grounds of the public pavilion were filled with people. Tables and chairs had been dragged out of homes and shops nearby; spreads of food were laid out for all to share; magelights swayed gently overhead to illuminate it all. On the makeshift stage, a troupe of musicians played a rousing song, energized by the crowd of dancers twirling before them.

Runaan hated it.

Someone bumped into him, and he flinched away only to have his shoulder knocked by someone else running to meet with yet a third person shouting a greeting behind him. All around him, voices buzzed and chattered, punctuated by loud laughter and shrill squeals of delight. The voices choked out the music, blurred together, devolved into a mindless hum that set Runaan's teeth on edge.

He finally broke through the crowd to stand beside the safety of the benches set up along the tree line. With a relieved sigh, he sat down to survey the festival grounds. It was better, here. _Quieter._ No one moving around behind him and making him feel paranoid that someone was sneaking up upon him. It seemed so unnatural for this many people to be moving around in one spot, and yet not be going anywhere.

"Getting to be too much for you?"

Runaan shot a glance to his left, his brows drawing together for a moment before smoothing in recognition. "Lain," he greeted. "Join me."

With a soft chuckle, Lain wandered over to sit beside him. He was a tall man, quiet and deceptively lean. Runaan know better than to be fooled by the innocuous appearance. Lain was just as much of a fighter as his wife, Tiadrin. He'd gotten the best of Runaan in the sparring ring more times than Runaan could count.

Lain flipped a lock of stark white hair out of his eyes and tucked a single thin braid behind his ear before hooking an arm over the back of the bench. "Well," he said as he stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. "Quite a party."

"The Moon Rise Festival is a solemn occasion in Moonshire," Runaan said. "All these festivities seem...excessive."

"Moonshire's full of stuffy old priests and politicians," Lain returned. "Old blood, old wealth, old traditions. I'll take a Silvergrove shindig over a Moonshire soiree any day of the week." He lifted his chin and raised his fingers to his lips to let out a single shrill whistle. From somewhere in the crowd, a hand darted up high to wave, and Lain waved back. "Tiadrin," he explained when Runaan cast him an inquisitive glance. "We got waylaid on the way over to you. You know Kalgar? That man does _not_ stop talking. I don't even think he noticed when I told him I was leaving."

Runaan chuckled appreciatively, and Tiadrin broke out of the crowd with an exasperated sigh. "How can anyone talk that much?" she complained as she plopped down between Lain and Runaan. "He doesn't stop. He doesn't breathe. I had to poke Rayla to make her cry, just so I'd have an excuse to leave. I'm so sorry, baby," she cooed. "I'll never do it again." In her arms, Rayla sniffled and waved her fists in the air as Tiadrin hugged her closer. Tiadrin nuzzled her ear, then arched her bros at Runaan. "I've got to say, Runaan, I'm surprised you actually came. You _hate_ these things!"

"You threatened me," Runaan reminded her.

"Tiadrin," Lain murmured in a warning tone. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop threatening Runaan? He takes you seriously."

"No, he doesn't," came the tart retort. "He knows I'm teasing. You know I'm teasing, don't you, Runaan?" Tiadrin bumped her elbow against Runaan's, and Runaan bumped it back.

"Not always," he said. "You can be very convincing."

"There, see?" Lain took Rayla from his wife's arms and cradled her against his chest. "Poor little Rayla. One day, you're going to tease her into believing trees can talk."

"Trees _can_ talk," Tiadrin objected. "I know an Earthblood elf. He says trees have all sorts of conversations. They mainly–– _oh!"_ She straightened suddenly to wave her hand above her head, and shot to her feet to trot towards the crowd. "Ethari! Over here!"

Runaan stiffened. As Ethari emerged from the teaming mass of celebrating elves to embrace his friend, Lain leaned closer to catch Runaan's attention. "Tiadrin says the two of you had some kind of big fight up in the smithy," he whispered. "I asked Faleth. He knows nothing about it. What really happened?"

"Tiadrin's exaggerating," Runaan murmured back. "There was no fight. Just a misunderstanding that's already been cleared up."

"Then the two of you are friends, now?"

Runaan hesitated. Before he could respond, Tiadrin bounded back with Ethari in tow. "Found him," she declared. "So who's up for some dancing?" She shifted her gaze eagerly between Runaan and Lain. Beside her Ethari tried to catch Runaan's eye. Runaan pretended not to notice.

"I think I'll wait for the crowd to thin a little," Lain said. "Why don't you and Ethari go ahead? Runaan and I need to catch up on some things."

"You're no fun." Tiadrin hugged Ethari's arm and rested her head against his shoulder. "I guess I'll just have to leave you and elope with Ethari."

A startled look crossed over Ethari's features. "Wait, what?"

"I'm _joking,_ Ethari!" Tiadrin exclaimed. "Why is everyone being so serious? We're supposed to be having fun! Come on––" She forged her way into the crowd and dragged Ethari after her. Runaan watched her curiously and cast a glance to Lain.

"She seems a little off tonight," he mused. "Did the two of _you_ have a fight?"

"Would have been easier to deal with." Lain glanced around to make sure no one was listening and scooted closer to Runaan. "She's been in a foul mood all day," he confided quietly. "I think she's overcompensating by trying to act excited over the festival. Can't even tell how much she was crying this morning."

Runaan's brows furrowed in concern. "Motherhood mood swings?" he chanced.

Lain huffed out a short laugh. "Naw, that's passed. This is something else." He was silent for a few moments, then sighed. "Tiadrin and I have been trying to get accepted into the Dragonguard for years, now," he said. "Captain Yanesh kept telling us we needed more training, more experience. He finally agreed to send in his recommendation earlier in the year. Today, we got word of who the new warriors will be for the official roster."

Understanding dawned upon Runaan. "And you weren't on it."

"Neither of us were." Lain grimaced and shook his head. "Tiadrin's heartbroken. Captain Yanesh said the higher-ups don't like breaking apart families––and they're hardly about to let us bring a baby into potential battle."

Runaan lowered his eyes to Rayla. Her face was still scrunched up, and tiny _"ugn"_ sounds emitted from her throat as she breathed. How old was she? Nearly a year, wasn't it? She had grown a great deal since her infancy, but she hadn't even taken her first steps, yet. It would be a long time before she would be able to fend for herself. "So it may be years before you even have a chance," he said aloud.

Lain hummed and shrugged as he shifted Rayla to his other arm. "It might not be so bad. A decade from now, Rayla will be old enough to be considered a warrior's page. We'd be able to bring her with us. I've told Tiadrin that, but..." He sighed again. "Being a member of the Dragonguard has been her dream. The rejection was devastating."

Runaan let his body list slightly to press his shoulder against Lain's. "It'll happen," he said encouragingly. "I still have connections in Moonshire, you know. I could contact––"

"No," Lain interrupted firmly. "No connections. This has to be through our own merit. If Tiadrin were to find out you pulled strings on her behalf, she'd never forgive you." Runaan nodded his understanding, and Lain's shoulders slumped dejectedly. For several moments, he was silent. Then, "Hey, Runaan," he started quietly. "I....look, don't mention this to Tiadrin. I haven't talked about it with her yet. But if the opportunity to join the guard happens before Rayla is old enough, I don't want Tiadrin to end up resenting her for preventing us from going for it. If we knew we had someone to look after Rayla in our absence...if we could be assured that Rayla would be cared for in the event the worst should happen to us..." He trailed off, his cheeks flushing slightly. Runaan stared at him, stunned by the implied question.

"Are you asking me to take care of her?" he asked slowly.

"She'd be safe with you," Lain said quickly. "And you'd be able to train her to protect herself as an adult."

Runaan let out a mirthless laugh. "I'm not exactly the most nurturing of people, Lain."

"I know. I plan to ask Ethari, too. Maybe a couple of other people I know. I just need to know I have options." Lain tilted his head back and looked at Runaan out of the corner of his eye. "It's only a contingency plan. Would you consider it?"

This time, it was Runaan who fell silent for several moments before responding. "If you are unable to find a more suitable surrogate," he finally said, "I would be honored to take Rayla into my home."

Lain smiled and fell sideways to rest his head upon Runaan's shoulder. "Thank you, Runaan. That means a lot to me. To _us."_

Runaan tilted his head against Lain's and smiled. On the minstrels' stage, the music swept to a close and the musicians began to lower their instruments. One rose to stand at the edge of the stage and raised her hands to gain the attention of the crowd.

"Thank you all for joining us tonight as we honor the memory of the first Moon Rise celebration!" she called out. "Eons ago, the moon breathed life into our people, and granted us both shelter and magic. In the time that has passed, the Moonshadow Elves have grown strong. We have prospered. We have made alliances with our cousins, and have become indispensable to the continued protection of Xadia."

Tiadrin and Ethari slipped out of the crowd to return to the benches. As Tiadrin sank down beside her husband with a gusty sigh, Ethari stood before them to glance hesitantly between the seat beside her and the seat beside Runaan. This time, Runaan caught his gaze and held it challengingly. Ethari seemed to understand. He moved to Tiadrin's side and sat beside her.

"Tonight," the musician continued, "let us cast aside our worries! Let us cast aside our differences! Let us cast aside everything that may have held us back in the year past, and celebrate the endless possibilities of a _new_ year!"

Runaan chanced a look towards Tiadrin. Her arms were folded across her chest, her brows drawn as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. His gaze dipped momentarily to her daughter, then away.

"We hope you have been enjoying our music tonight," the musician went on. "We'll be back in just a few minutes with a new set. While you wait, take this time to seek out a partner! We will be picking up with the Sunset Waltz!"

The crowd, temporarily hushed during the speech, began to buzz with conversation. Tiadrin hopped back up and extended a hand to Runaan. "Dance with me," she said.

"Why not dance with your husband?"

"I've been dancing with him all night. It's not easy to do with a baby lodged between us."

"I can hold Rayla," Ethari offered.

Tiadrin looked back at him, started to say something, then shook her head and turned back to Runaan. "Come on, Runaan. It's a round dance. You won't even have to think about it. You know the steps, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Runaan scoffed. "Every good round dance originated in Moonshire. I've––" He paused to study Tiadrin's expression. Though she was smiling, her jaw was tense, her lips bared too wide and her eyes rimmed faintly with red. With a soft sigh, Runaan pushed himself up. "Very well," he agreed. "But this will be the only one."

Tiadrin snatched his wrist and tugged him with her back into the crowd. Couples were already gathering together, and a clearing had formed to make room for them to get into position. Runaan shuddered as he stepped into the impromptu dance floor, all too aware of the eyes of the spectators closing around them. They would be watching his every move. _Judging_ him. He didn't like commanding this sort of attention. Swallowing back his discomfort, he followed Tiadrin to an open spot in the line of other couples waiting for the music to begin and closed his hands around hers in preparation for the first move of the dance. Tiadrin gave his hands a squeeze and offered a thin smile.

"You know, I'm proud of you, Runaan," she said.

Runaan's brows arched in surprise. "For what?"

"For being here." Tiadrin looked around for a moment, and her smile faded as she looked back at him. "I wasn't trying to guilt you into it, or anything," she said earnestly. "Don't feel like––"

"It's fine, Tiadrin," Runaan assured her. "I appreciate that you're always challenging me. Routine is comforting, but one does not grow by avoiding unpleasant experiences."

Tiadrin chuckled and squeezed his hands again. Her attention skipped to the stage, and she straightened eagerly. "They're picking up their instruments again," she whispered. "You ready?"

"Always."

A hush of anticipation fell over the spectators. At the same moment, a piercing, _"Ugh!"_ rang out. Tiadrin whirled around at the sound of her husband's voice, and Runaan looked beyond her shoulder to see Lain holding Rayla out at arms length, his face twisted in disgust. Something green and slimy was splattered over his face and dripping down his chest.

"I _knew_ she looked sick!" Tiadrin hissed. She released Runaan's hands and bolted back to the benches. As the musicians began to play the lead-in to the music, Runaan looked around frantically. Was she coming back? Was there time? His gaze skipped around the crowd. Eyes were turning towards him. The couples around him began to whisper, even as they tensed in readiness for the first steps only seconds away. Runaan had no partner. He needed to get off the dance floor. _Everyone was looking at him._

"Do you mind?"

Runaan looked up. Ethari stood before him, his hands extended in offering. The musician reached the end of the lead-in, and the song began.

Runaan latched on to Ethari's hands and lifted them just in time to join the dancers around them.

The music ebbed and flowed. Runaan relaxed into the repetitive beat, letting the memory of courtly dances take control of his limbs. Ethari moved with him, one hand dropping to the small of his back during a turn, lighting upon his elbow as they switched places, lifting above his head to touch his wrists to Runaan's as they circled one another.

It was strange, Runaan thought dimly. Ethari didn't look like someone who would be familiar with these types of coordinated dances. The moves were methodical, precise, even intricate at times––far different than the free-style tavern dances that seemed so common in Silvergrove.

They broke apart to change partners. Runaan caught the arms of a woman he didn't recognize and circled slowly around her. As they locked their arms into an interlaced position and transitioned to a promenade, Runaan chanced a glance sideways. Ethari was with another man. The man said something, and Ethari burst into laughter before they broke apart again.

Runaan twirled into the arms of a new partner and caught his hands. _Arms up. Swan pose, turn, one-two-three, one-two three. Arms down, circle pose. Rotate and sidestep. One-two-three, one-two-three..._

He chanted the moves in his mind. There was something calming about knowing _exactly_ what he was meant to do, and _exactly_ what the people around him were about to do next. He couldn't hear the overwhelming buzz of muddled conversation anymore; just the music guiding him effortlessly from one move to the next.

Strong hands caught him again, one on his waist and one upon his shoulder. Ethari held him tentatively as they bobbed and weaved through the next set of steps, an uncertain smile playing across his lips. Runaan could feel heat rising to his cheeks. It felt strange to be this close to Ethari. To be touching him, after all that had transpired during their brief association. Strange...and embarrassing. Runaan was no fool. This was a pity dance. Ethari had seen him floundering, and had swept in to save him from further humiliation. Runaan resented the situation...but was grateful all the same.

_I should say something to him._

Runaan steeled himself. His lips started to part––but just as he began to speak, he cut himself off, his eyes skipping in alarm to the musicians' stage. He recognized the crescendo suddenly rising in the music. The song was ending...and only did he recall the final dance move. Couples were to clasp their hands around the upper arm of their partner. They would slowly drag their hands down the arm to the wrist, and one partner would take the hand of the other to kiss it, signifying the end of the dance.

The crescendo reached its peak and began to die. All around him, people had fallen into the final pose, their hands clasping around their partners' arms. Ethari's hand settled upon Runaan's bicep; shoulders tensing, Runaan did the same. Ethari's skin seemed hot beneath his fingers. He felt a slight flex in the strong muscles as Ethari began to move his hand downwards, and realized dimly that Ethari must be quite strong from working to forge.

_Focus,_ Runaan told himself as their hand reached each other's elbows. _I can't let him take my hand. After the way I treated him, I won't let him complain that I've made him bow to me and kiss my knuckles like a lowly courtier honoring a haughty nobleman. He'll think I'm trying to assert some kind of dominance over him!_

Their fingers met. Ethari began to rotate Runaan's hand upwards, began to pull it towards himself. Runaan twisted it in the opposite direction and yanked his hand back-–but in his determination to seize control, he misjudged the strength of Ethari's grip. Instead of pulling Ethari's hand towards himself, Runaan instead jerked his hand out of Ethari's' grip entirely.

Ethari flinched back slightly. A look of hurt confusion flitted over his face. As he realized what he had done, Runaan's fist clenched and slowly lowered to his side. There was that look again: the disappointment and hollow acceptance of yet another slight.

The noise was growing around him. The music was gone, replaced by the burbling chatter that vibrated through his mind and dulled his senses. As the dance floor cleared, people began to move around again; a disorganized mass of bodies bumping into one another and flailing about with no purpose. The entire world felt like it was closing around him. Runaan tensed and took a step backwards. Then another––and finally spun around and walk swiftly away.

Ethari remained where he was for several moments after Runaan stalked off without so much as a backwards glance. Slowly, he forced his legs to carry him back to the benches, where Lain and Tiadrin were busy cleaning up Rayla. Lain looked up with a distracted smile as he hefted his daughter back into his arms and began to rub her back.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

Ethari shook his head and dropped down upon the bench. "I think he's mad at me again," he muttered. "He just ran off. Didn't say one word to me the entire time."

Tiadrin scowled and brushed of her sleeves. "Forget him," she said flatly as she stood up. "He's just being a moody bitch. Where's the wine?" She wandered off towards the table without waiting for a response, and Lain made an abortive move to follow her.

"Tiadrin, wait, don't––" He stopped, then sighed and turned back to Ethari. "He gets like that sometimes," he said apologetically. "Do you want me to bring him back?"

Ethari snorted. "No. He obviously doesn't want to be around me."

Lain sank down beside him, a look of concern settling upon his face. "I thought the two of you fixed things?"

"I thought so, too." Ethari chewed his lip for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Rayla. She seemed quiet, already huddling into her wraps as though she was about to fall asleep. "Is Rayla okay?" he asked.

"Oh, she'll be fine," Lain chuckled. "Just an upset tummy. Probably shouldn't have brought her along."

"Want me to watch her for you?" Ethari offered. "I can take her back to your place and put her to bed."

"What, and miss out on the festival?"

"The festival's going to last for three nights, Lain. I won't miss anything."

Lain fell silent, seeming to consider the offer. Before he could respond, Tiadrin's voice rang out from beside the tables.

_"Lain!"_ she shouted, waving a wineglass over her head to call his attention. "Lain, get over here! They've just put out a fresh batch of moonberry surprise! Isn't that great? Everything's great! Everything's _fucking great!"_ She lowered the wineglass to her lips and threw her head back to down the contents. With a pained hum of exasperation, Lain stood up and started walking towards her.

"I think I'll convince Tiadrin to go home early," he said over his shoulder. "Thank you, Ethari. You go enjoy yourself."

Brows furrowed, Ethari nodded. "Yeah," he called back. "Let me know if you need anything."

Lain walked off. Ethari watched from a distance as he inclined his head to say something to Tiadrin. Tiadrin's face clouded in anger...then crumpled. She set down the wineglass, one hand rising to her face as her shoulders stooped. Ethari could see her lips peeling back; Tiadiin quickly covered her mouth and looked away, and did not resist as her husband laid his arm along her shoulders and guided her away.

Ethari would need to ask them about that later.

He sighed and patted his thighs in boredom as he watched the other elves of Silvergrove laugh and celebrate. The music started up again, and a rousing cheer rose from the middle of the dance floor as people ran in to dance with each other. Ethari watched with distant interest, but made no move to get up and join them.

He wasn't feeling particularly festive at the moment.

He sighed again. His gaze drifted over to the tables of food and drink, then to the far end of the pavilion, where a series of games had been laid out. He wasn't hungry. He didn't feel like playing games. Even the allure of the trinkets booths set up by eager venders wasn't enough to spark his interest.

Ethari looked down at his hands and flexed his fingers. Runaan had been a good dancer. Ethari had been having fun. What went wrong?

He dropped his hands back to his thighs, and his brows began to furrow again. He was growing sick of the way Runaan kept making him feel. Why did he keep doing this? Ethari hadn't even done anything to him! Was he expecting Ethari to track him down and apologize to him again?

Anger surged into him. _No. Not this time. He doesn't have to like me, but I'll be damned if I let him get away with making me feel like crap again! I'm going to find him and give him a piece of my mind!_

Ethari stood with conviction, his jaw set resolutely as he recalled all the times Tiadrin had encouraged him to stand up for himself. _Yeah,_ he thought. _Be assertive. Take charge. Don't let people take advantage of you._

_Well, he wasn't really taking advantage of me._

_And he did let me dance with him._

The anger drained away, and the tension eased from Ethari's shoulders––then returned full force as a thought occurred to him. _It was the kiss! Of course! He didn't want to kiss me. And he sure as hell didn't want me kissing him. He probably didn't even want to dance with me. I just swooped in and cornered him right as the music started, and he had no choice but to go along with it. We'd have been fine, if I hadn't tried to slobber all over him at the end. What was I thinking?_

_Ugh. Maybe I_ should _apologize._

_No._

_Yes._

_...Shit._

Ethari rubbed his face and moved away from the benches. He started to walk towards the table laid out with wineglasses––then switched directions to follow the path Runaan had taken.

_I'm not going to let this ruin things again,_ he thought grimly. _Just find him, talk to him, and...and see what he says. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe Rayla got him sick, and he ran off to puke somewhere. No assumptions. Facts first, judgements later. And one way or another, we're going to sort this all out._

_He can't avoid me forever._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_I have no idea where I'm going._

Ethari wandered aimlessly along the empty road. In the distance, he could hear the distorted echo of music emanating from the pavilion below, nearly drowned out by the gentle rustling of the trees around him. He had been weaving his way steadily up the multi-leveled settlement for nearly an hour, and now, nearly at the highest rise, he was finally beginning to realize what a futile endeavor he had chosen to undertake.

_I wouldn't have lost him if I'd gone after him immediately. Or maybe I shouldn't have bothered going after him at all. What am I even hoping to accomplish? 'Hey, Runaan! Why didn't you want to hold my hand? That made me sad! Apologize!' Ugh, I don't even have to say it aloud for that to sound stupid..._

Ethari's steps slowed as he reached an intersection. He could continue along the main road until it terminated at the temple ahead, detour down the stone path that offered a shortcut into the modest residential section nearby, or take the narrow walkway that lead to one of the several serenity gardens that offered a quiet retreat throughout Silvergrove.

_Or I could just turn around and go home._

Ethari sighed and rubbed the back of his head as he considered his options. There really was no point to this, he thought dimly. Runaan was long gone, and in the unlikely event that Ethari did manage to find him, he still didn't even know what he planned to say.

And with his luck, Runaan would end up thinking that Ethari was stalking him.

_...I guess I kind of am._

With a self-directed growl of disgust, Ethari set off down the walkway towards the garden. He might as well take some time to relax and clear his mind before heading back.

The barely audible chiming of the blue lantern flowers lining the path hummed through Ethari's mind as he walked past them. Tiny motes of glowing blue pollen wafted into the air as he dragged his fingertips along the silky petals, and he smiled as a cerulean butterfly fluttered away from his touch. Xadia really was beautiful, he reflected fondly. It was no wonder humans were constantly trying to sneak across to border. If it weren't for the efforts of the Dragon King, Avizandum, Xadia would be overrun with them!

The flower-lined path broke into a clearing. Here, uncarved stones of all sizes were laid out statically around a central reflecting pool. Flowery bushes and leafy vines crept between them, casting an artfully tangled net over the mossy stone pavers that dotted the ground. Ethari started for a large flat stone near the pool––and stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed a figure already sitting on a stone to his right.

_Runaan._

Ethari's mind went blank. His lips parted mutely, his body locking in place at the unexpected company. On the smooth boulder set several paces away from the pool, Runaan sat cross-legged, his eyes closed and his hands resting upon his knees. His back was straight, his face tilted slightly upwards as though he was listening to the music of the stars themselves.

His eyes slit open and flicked to Ethari.

Ethari's heart nearly stopped. He sucked in a quick breath to steady himself and forced himself to take a step forward. "Hey," he said. His voice cracked, and he mentally shook himself for being so terrified of a simple greeting.

Runaan held his gaze for a long moment. Then, slowly, he looked away and closed his eyes again. "Hello."

_...Okay. He didn't immediately insult me. We're already off to a great start._

Ethari nodded to himself, encouraged by the polite response. This didn't have to be an argument. He was only here to find out what had happened at the dance and to speak his mind. This wasn't a confrontation. It was an intervention.

Ethari took another breath. _Small talk,_ he decided. _When you have a complaint, you should soften it by starting with friendly conversation._ "It's quiet here," he said aloud. "A good place to meditate. Is that what you're doing?"

"I was."

There was a flat, nearly accusatory note in Runaan's voice as he responded. Realizing that he must have interrupted him, Ethari faltered over his next words. So much for the good start. Well, maybe that was for the best. Tiadrin was always telling him that if he had something to say, he should just be blunt and spit it out. The longer he waited to speak, the less relevant his words would be.

"I don't own the garden, Ethari. If you want to be here, don't let me be the one to drive you away."

Ethari broke out of his thoughts and looked up in surprise. Runaan still wasn't look at him, but despite the faint exasperation in his voice, he didn't seem to be particularly annoyed. Ethari hesitated, then squared his shoulders and ventured further into the garden. This was it, then. He was finally going to speak his mind. _Time to be bold._

"Is this one of those situations where you invite me to stay, and then the moment I sit down, you get up and walk away?" Ethari asked in a hard voice. "Because you seem like someone who'd do that, and I don't really feel like giving you another opening to make me feel like shit."

Runaan's eye popped open. His attention snapped towards Ethari, a slight flinch rolling over his shoulders. He caught himself quickly, and his body immediately relaxed as he lifted his chin haughtily. "I wasn't planning on abandoning you," he retorted. "I'm quite comfortable where I am––and I have no intention of letting you run _me_ off, either."

Ethari narrowed his eyes. He closed the distance to the reflecting pool at sat upon the low stone retaining wall that circled it. With Runaan directly across from him, Ethari clasped his hands together between his knees and slouched forward with his elbows braced against his thighs. "I wasn't _trying_ to run you off," he replied earnestly. "Runaan, you keep doing this to me. Every time I try to be nice, you find some way to blame me for something. Did I offend you again? I thought we were doing fine. We cleared things up, agreed to start over, shared a dance...and then you ran away from me, and I...I don't know. What did I do wrong?"

Runaan shifted slightly, his fingers curling against his knees as he considered his response. "It was not my intent to make you feel slighted," he said slowly. "I regret that you interpreted it that way."

"How else was I supposed to interpret it? You smacked my hand away and stomped off like you were looking to punch someone!"

"That wasn't––" Runaan cut himself off, visibly tightening his control over the growing heat in his voice. "That was a situational reaction, Ethari," he said tightly. "It had nothing to do with you. I was already in a foul mood, and I reached a point where I needed to get away from everyone. You just happened to be standing there when I reached that point."

Ethari's lips thinned. "You don't have to make up excuses," he said. "If you don't want to talk to me, just say so. I'll leave you alone."

Ethari shoved himself back up, and as he started to walk away, Runaan's jaw clenched angrily. "Is it so difficult to believe that I make decisions independent of your involvement?" he spat out. "Or are you simply so conceited that you think everything has to be about you?"

He leaned forward as he spoke, and for a moment, Ethari thought Runaan was about to launch himself off the rock to strangle him. The backs of this legs struck the rim of the pool as he flinched back instinctively. Only plopping back down to sit on the rim prevented him from losing his balance and falling into the water.

Runaan watched him silently, his brows rising in faint surprise before drawing together guiltily. "That was uncalled for," he said in a calmer tone. "Forgive my temper. It's been a...difficult night so far." Runaan unfolded his legs to let them dangle off the edge of the boulder, and let his hands rest beside his thighs as he hung his head for a moment in thought. His lips parted, and he seemed on the verge of saying something difficult. Ethari waited warily, and finally Runaan lifted his head. "Ethari," he began slowly, "I don't do well with large gatherings. It's just noise and movement and people, crowding me in and smothering me until I can't breathe. I only attended the festival because Tiadrin insisted I dance with her, and when you stepped in to take her place, I chose to dance with you precisely _because_ I didn't want to 'stomp off' and leave you standing there 'feeling like shit'." He paused, his shoulders hunching slightly he his gaze lowered further. "And...also because I was embarrassed to be standing there alone with everyone looking at me," he admitted under his breath. "By the time you offered to take Tiadrin's place, I was already close to reaching my limit. The confusion over who would kiss whose hand just pushed me past it."

Ethari resettled himself upon the rim of the pool. "So...you were thinking of kissing me, then?"

A soft huff escaped Runaan's lips. "That was my intent. I didn't expect you to let go when I pulled my hand away."

"Oh." Ethari thought back to the dance, and a slow smile spread across his face. Was that all it was? What a relief! Ethari laughed and shook his head incredulously, his back straightening as he braced his palms against the rim to either side of him. "And here I was thinking you hated me," he returned brightly. "I was getting angry over nothing!"

Runaan didn't share his smile. He rubbed his chin distractedly, then slid off the edge of the boulder and crossed over to the pool to sit beside Ethari. There, he folded his arms across his knees, his fingers twining around one another as though he didn't quite know what to do with them. "The two of us are in a unique situation," he said quietly. "I don't hate you, Ethari. I don't even know you. The opinion I'd initially formed of you was inaccurate, and I've yet to form a new one. It's strange to know someone for this long and realize you haven't a clue who they actually are. Having this kind of conversation with you..." He winced and turned his face away, one hand rising to sweep over his hair. "It's uncomfortable," he gritted out. "You're still just a stranger to me. I don't how to react to you yet."

Ethari's brows furrowed. This wasn't how he had expected the conversation to go.

But damned if he wasn't going to take advantage of it.

"Then we need to stop being strangers," he said firmly. "Let's get reacquainted. _Properly,_ this time." He pushed off of the rim and stood to face Runaan. With a wide smile, he pressed a hand to his chest and swept out his other arm to he bow as formally as he could manage. "Hello," he greeted warmly. "My name is Ethari. I'm a blacksmith nearing the end of his training, but I'm not really intending to dedicate myself to the forge. I'm just leaning the skills so I can turn my designs into reality. I like to invent things. _Craft_ things. Anything that lets me create. I'm pretty good with weapons, if you ever need a new blade. I also do enchantments." He straightened and stepped back to stare at Runaan expectantly.

Runaan blinked owlishly at him. His lips twitched, his head tilting for a moment before he stood to bow back "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ethari. I am Runaan of the Moonshadow Elves. I am a fully trained assassin, but moved here a year ago from Moonshire to seek additional experience and training in leadership. It is my goal to one day assemble and command an elite group of hand-picked assassins capable of taking on challenges too dangerous even for seasoned veterans to undertake here along the boarder."

As Runaan straightened, Ethari's smile faded. "An assassin," he repeated. "You kill people, then?"

The faint smile hovering at the corn of Runaan's lips darkened to a scowl. "So do you," he retorted defensively. "What, you think those weapons you make never taste blood?"

Ethari winced, taken aback by the accusation. "I...guess I never really thought of it," he admitted.

Runaan's expression softened. "Those weapons are wielded by good people, Ethari," he assured him. "Warriors with honor. Assassins with scruples. I don't just run out and stab every person who looks at me cross-eyed. There's always a reason. Justice. Vengeance. Protection. Ending one life to save another. Every time I draw my sword or notch an arrow, it's because doing so will in some way benefit my people."

Realizing his error, Ethari ducked his head and nodded. "I wasn't trying to insult you," he murmured. "Sorry."

Sighing, Runaan stepped away from the reflecting pool, his arms crossing over his chest as he turned to survey the garden. "It is an honorable profession," he said wistfully, "but I'm under no illusions. My line of work tends to make people uncomfortable. I accept that."

Ethari followed Runaan's gaze to another butterfly flexing its wings upon a low hanging tree branch, then shifted his attention to Runaan himself. His long white hair hung down his back in a neat braid that flared into a simple tail. Ethari's fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and tug it, and he quickly folded his hands behind his back. "I think its admirable," he offered. "You do something many would be too afraid to do."

Runaan turned slightly to cast an approving glance over his shoulder before turning to face him. "Your craft is impressive as well," he replied. "I don't think I would have the patience to stand before a hot forge all day banging metal with a hammer. Or the muscles." His eyes flicked down to Ethari's arm, and a warm flush rose to Ethari's cheeks.

"You like these, huh?" He lifted his arms and flexed his biceps. Runaan's eyes lingered on them for several seconds before rising to meet Ethari's gaze.

"As I said," he murmured. "Impressive."

The warm flush grew hot, and an answering heat surged to the apex of Ethari's legs. Alarmed, Ethari quickly looked away and cleared his throat. Turning his back to Runaan, he faced the pool again and pretended to study his own reflection.

Why did Runaan have to be so damned attractive?

"So..." Ethari cleared his throat again and took a breath to cool his body's reaction to Runaan's appraisal. "How long did it take you to find those runes?"

"Hmm." Runaan wandered over to stand beside Ethari and looked down at his own reflection. "I found them after I brought home those arrows you crafted."

"It took you that long?" Ethari slanted a grin at him. "Damn. No wonder you were giving me those weird looks. You know, I was really starting to get mad at you, for a while. I thought you one of those arrogant bastards who just expects people to give you gifts, and never bothers to say a word of thanks."

The eyes of Runaan's reflection shifted to Ethari's. "Were you doing it for thanks?" came the bemused response.

"No. But it would have been nice." Ethari pursed his lips for a moment in thought. "I guess I wanted to be acknowledged," he said. "There I was, trying to be nice, and you were treating me like I was some kind of poorly trained servant you'd been saddled with."

"I did apologize," Runaan reminded him.

"Yeah..." Ethari frowned at himself, then chuckled. "I probably shouldn't bring it up again," he said. "Sorry."

Runaan hummed again and moved away to lean against the boulder he had been sitting on earlier. "There's one thing I still don't understand," he said thoughtfully. "You kept putting flowers on the items you gave me. Why? Was that your version of a maker's mark?"

"Uh..." Another wave of heat, this time from embarrassment. Ethari rubbed the back of his neck, one hand resting upon his hip as he let out a nervous chuckle. "No. That was a peace offering. And sort of..." His fingers curled against his hair. "I'd don't know," he muttered. "I guess I was trying to get your attention." He paused, and when Runaan didn't immediately reply, he sighed and forced himself to meet his gaze again. "You're a handsome man, Runaan. And flowers are pretty. I thought maybe you'd see them and smile and maybe want to talk to me." His ears were burning. Ethari dropped his arms to his sides and chuckled again as he lowered his gaze. "It, uh. Didn't quite work out the way I'd hoped. You seemed offended by them, actually..."

Runaan's brow arched. "I wouldn't say offended," he said thoughtfully. "More like...perplexed. The way you kept smiling at me when you handed them over..." He shoved away from the boulder and started to wander around the perimeter of the pool. "I'll be honest, Ethari, I half expected them to expel some kind of noxious pollen dust meant to incapacitate me."

Ethari cast him an odd look. "Really? Someone gives you a flower, and your first thought is that they're trying to poison you?"

Runaan rolled his eyes. "I'm an assassin," he said patiently. "For me, flowers are only useful if I can crush them up for reagents. That's what I associate them with. _Poison._ Flowers can be dangerous. And those that aren't are useless. And yet so many people find them romantic." He shook his head, mystified by the concept. "I've never understood it, personally."

Ethari started to circle the pool as well, keeping the flat stretch of calm water between them as they walked along the rim. "Because they're beautiful," he said. "What's not to understand?"

"That's just it." Runaan abruptly stopped walking to cast an intent look at Ethari. "They are beautiful, yes, but that beauty is fleeting. They wither and die in mere days, and are discarded without a second thought. When you give a flower to a romantic interest, it's like saying your love is fickle and dependent on appearance. It would make more sense to present a potential love interest with something that has an enduring value. Something practical. _Useful."_

"Like what?"

"Like..." Runaan's brows drew together, and he waved a hand indecisively as he sought to come up with an appropriate alternative. "I don't know," he said finally. "A potato, maybe."

Ethari stared at him. "A potato," he repeated flatly, and Runaan lifted his chin to challenge him.

"Why not?" he demanded. "Potatoes may not be beautiful, but they're hardy. Nutritious. They have a variety of uses, none of which are dependent on appearance, and they continue to grow long after you've acquired them. Giving them as a gift would be a metaphorically superior indication of one's continued affection."

Ethari circled the pool until he was standing beside Runaan again. He crossed his arms and cocked his head, a coy smile lighting upon his lips as he slowed to a stop. "So...you're saying the best way to seduce you would be to present you with a bouquet of potatoes," he teased.

Runaan leaned back slightly, but did not step away as Ethari drew closer to him. A curious look crossed over his refined features, and amusement swiftly took its place. "Do you intend to seduce me, Ethari?" he returned.

"Depends. How many potatoes would I need?"

Runaan's lips twitched. A huff of a laugh escaped him, then another as his lips stretched into a broad grin. Startled, Ethari took a step backwards, and Runaan raised a hand reassuringly. "You're right," he said as his laughter quelled. "It's stupid. I don't know what I was thinking. Flowers are disposable, but they're an effective token of affection." He glanced at Ethari out of the corner of his eye. "Or friendship, as the case may be."

Ethari's surprise over the unexpected laughter faded, and a thrill of excitement arched through him before abruptly dimming. "So we're friends, then?" he asked quietly. He hadn't expected the accomplishment to feel so disappointing. Wasn't that what he had hoping for? Friendship?

As Ethari mulled over his conflicting emotions, Runaan started to walk away again. He crossed the garden to stand before the walkway, then paused to look over his shoulder when he realized that Ethari hadn't moved. "Come with me," he directed. He set out swiftly down the walkway without waiting for a response, and with a belated nod of agreement, Ethari trotted after him. Moon above, the way that braid looked as it swayed back and forth... It was like it was taunting him. Ethari watched it enviously, forced himself to lift his gaze as he reminded himself that it would be a bad idea to pull an assassin's hair.

"Where are we going?" he said aloud.

"My home. It's not far from here."

Ethari stumbled. "I––what?" he stammered. "You're taking me home with you? Isn't that––I mean, we haven't really––"

"I'm not sure what you're thinking," Runaan interrupted, "but I assure you, it's nothing so forward. I want you so see where I live. The two of us..." Runaan let out a deep sigh. "The constant misunderstandings has grown tiresome," he said. "If you truly wish to know me, you to _see_ me. You can learn a lot about someone by looking at what they surround themselves with."

Alarm tightened Ethari's chest. When he had left the festival, it was to track down Runaan and yell at him for being an ass. Now Runaan was inviting him over for a friendly visit, and Ethari was imagining running his fingers through those long white tresses.

_I have no idea what's happening anymore!_

Runaan led the way down the path that led into the residential district. Ethari followed behind, his heart pounding in a combination of excitement and trepidation. This was good, he told himself firmly. This was his chance to reinforce the remarkably civil conversation they'd had and solidify it into an actual friendship.

Then again, this could also be _Runaan's_ chance to slit Ethari's throat without witnesses and just be done with him entirely...

There were few people going about their night in the quiet residential district. Modest decorations had been set up here and there, and though Ethari could hear someone playing a cheery song on a flute, it didn't sound like the sort of music meant for a party. _Family gatherings,_ he decided as he observed his surroundings curiously. _Not everyone likes to party._

Runaan continued to walk until they reached the other end of the district. Here, the walkway opened into a wide clearing in the mountain side, where a massive tree stretched its arms over a handful of elegant buildings. A long set of stone stairs led up to it, and Runaan started up them. Ethari hesitated at the first step, his head tilting back as he eyed the steep incline in resignation. His legs were strong, true, but...light of the moon, that was a _lot_ of steps.

He sighed and made his way to the top. Here, behind a scattering of large rocks, was another reflection pool. Runaan passed it without a glance, and Ethari paused again at the sight of a scepter-shaped carving that was poised proudly to one side of it. His eyes flicked back to Runaan. Though a portion of Runaan's sleeve partially obscured it, Ethari could make out a similar shape decorating his shoulder.

"Up here."

Runaan started up another set of stairs, this one spiraling its way around the trunk of the tree. Ethari winced, but continued to follow him. There was a tall door carved into the tree up ahead. Ethari quickened his steps hopefully, then sagged as Runaan continued past it.

At this rate, having his throat slit would be a relief.

Runaan finally halted beside a second door. He turned to wait for Ethari to catch up, then stepped aside and gestured for Ethari to enter. "Welcome to my home, Ethari," he said with a slight bow. "Explore as much as you like. I have no secrets."

Ethari stared at the arched doorway. His mouth went dry, and he swallowed thickly. "Are you sure?" he asked weakly.

"I am."

Ethari's fingers tensed. And with a deep breath, he pushed the door open.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The door swung open silently.

Inside, the dark confines of the central chamber slowly began to illuminate a calm green as the enchanted ambience gems activated along the walls. Ethari paused to let his eyes adjust before stepping across the threshold, and let out a low breath of surprise as he looked around. He didn't know what he had been expecting Runaan's home to look like, but he certainly hadn't expected it to be so...

_Empty._

Ethari halted only two paces in, momentarily confused. There was a hearth and cooking counter to the back left. A series of cabinets lining the wall to its side. A single round table carved directly out of the tree to the back left with a single chair wedged beneath it.

That was it.

Ethari looked over his shoulder to cast an inquisitive look at Runaan, who walked in and closed the door behind himself.

"Welcome to my home, Ethari," he murmured. "Go ahead. Explore."

Was that a challenge in his voice? Ethari wasn't certain anymore. He turned a dubious look back over the sparse confines, wondering if perhaps he was missing something.

_No wall decorations. No decorations of_ any _kind. No rugs, no extra chairs for company, no work bench or artwork or books...not even a potted plant to give the room color._

_What am I supposed to learn about him from this?_

Ethari walked into the center or the room and turned slowly. He spotted a second chair, this one set up directly next to the door that led outside. A bag was perched upon it. Feeling bold, Ethari walked back over to it and flipped over the top flap. Inside, there looked to be a rolled blanket, a canteen, and a few cloth-wrapped bundles that smelled like bread. A supply bag? Ethari closed the flap and looked up to ask, only to find that Runaan had disappeared. A faint shuffling sound emanated from an open doorway nearby; Ethari hurried towards it to find Runaan in a smaller room. This one, at least, had been filled. An array of weaponry crowded the display hooks nailed into the walls. There was a simple table with a sword laid atop it; open shelves filled with supplies; armor mounted upon a few stands.

_Assassin paraphilia?_

Runaan pulled a rag from one of the shelves and picked up the sword to begin polishing it. He glanced up briefly, lifted his chin to indicate the room behind Ethari, then turned his back to him.

Ethari retreated.

_Okay,_ he thought. _He likes pointy things. And he apparently doesn't like clutter. What else can I find out?_ He walked over to the hearth. No pots, no cooking utensils. The wood was partially charred, but the ashes had been swept away. Frowning, Ethari opened a cupboard. _Ah-ha,_ he thought. A few pots and pans. He opened each of the cupboards in turn. Cooking utensils, neatly labels glass jars full of spices, a few stacked plates, some cups. Other cupboards served as a pantry, with various foods arranged by type, perfectly organized. One cupboard proved to be a hidden washing station, complete with a deep basin beneath a plugged hole that most likely let in water.

Ethari slowly closed the cupboard. _Neat and tidy,_ he thought. _Nothing unnecessary. He only surrounds himself with things that that are useful. And judging by the lack of chairs, people aren't on the list._

With a soft sigh, he turned and looked off towards another open archway, where he could see a set of stairs leading downwards. He walked towards them and paused again as he saw a second set leading up. _Three levels,_ he thought. _Why? He has so few belongings. It's not like he needs more space!_ With an inward shrug, he started down the stairs. Maybe there were more things stashed below.

The stairs curled around the inner curve of the tree trunk, opening into a wide room that made up the entire level. A large door dominated one side of it; the same door he and Runaan had passed on the way up earlier, Ethari realized. As the green gems set into the lighting pillars began to illuminate, Ethari studied the contents curiously. Once again, he was disappointed. It was just a sparring ring in the center of the floor. A few training dummies were propped up along the wall. Targets of varying sizes were hung up beside them. There was a small table with a basin tucked beneath it near the door, a stack of towels folded atop it, and a tray filled with clean, rolled bandages at its side.

That was it.

_He just uses this as a training room,_ Ethari sighed inwardly. _Maybe he brings people here to spar in private. Doubt he keeps it open for parties. What a waste. There's nothing down here that wouldn't easily fit into the space upstairs. He could do so much with a room like this!_

Ethari tilted his head back to look up at the high ceiling. What he wouldn't do for a space like this back at the smithy! Already, he could imagine a wall decorated with his best weaponry on display for all to see. A long work bench to lay out his designs and work on his crafts. There was room for an anvil near the stairs. And room for a forge near the door. And with this being the first level of the home, it would be easy to convert it into a space where other Moonshadow elves could come and go freely to seek him out. On a warm day, he could leave the door open and let in the breeze, maybe take a break to look out over the rest of Silvergrove...

He sighed again and let the mental image crumble away. He'd never have that kind of space. And he doubted Runaan would let him move in and take it over.

"All right," he said aloud. "Nothing much to see here. Upstairs, then."

He trotted up the steps, paused to peek through the archway to see if Runaan had left the storage room yet, then continued up the next set of stairs. This one opened into bedroom. Ethari halted at the threshold, his cheeks heating swiftly at the sight of the large bed pressed against the back wall. It was carved of sturdy wood, the boards bending and twisting in the manner of vines. The blankets were a deep green––no patterns or embellishments, Ethari noted, though the fabric itself seemed to be of high quality. He ventured closer and let his fingertips drag along it. _Soft._ Everything here was simple. Elegant. A perfect marriage of form and function.

Just like Runaan himself.

Ethari grinned, momentarily overcome with the urge to jump on the bed and roll around atop it. But no. It was made so neatly, so precisely, the covers tucked in tightly enough to bounce a skipping stone across it. Ethari wouldn't be able to straighten the sheets that well, and Runaan would definitely notice if he rumpled them.

He lifted his gaze. On the wall behind the bed was the only decoration Ethari had seen so far: a deep green banner embroidered with the same scepter symbol Ethari had seen both on Runaan's arm and on the carving beside the pool in front of the tree. Was it a family crest? Ethari cocked his head, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. It looked familiar, he thought dimly. And Runaan did have that strange accent. Was he from a prominent family back in Moonshire? Ethari wasn't too familiar with the older families, but there was something about the symbol that nagged at the back of his mind...

Ethari looked over the banner for a few more seconds, then shrugged and turned his attention away towards the rest of the room. Surprisingly, there was a large vanity built into one wall, the elongated oval mirror cleanly polished. Ethari gravitated towards it, his eyes skipping over the multitude of containers laid atop the vanity's top.

_I shouldn't be surprised,_ Ethari thought in amusement. _No one looks that good without a little help. Something to keep the skin soft, hmm? What else might you be using it for?_

A guilty thread of heat worked its way though him. Ethari backed away with a nervous chuckle, and looked instead at the wardrobe nearby. Biting his lip, he started to reach for the handle, then pulled his hand back without touching it. It didn't seem right to pry that much.

He turned around. There was a plain bookshelf half-filled with books, another weapons, and comfortable looking chair along one wall. On the other wall, another room branched off to open into a washroom. A clean white tub, wide wash basin, another mirror. Ethari studied everything curiously, and finally left to return to the main level. There, Runaan was seated at the lone table in the corner. He stood as Ethari appeared, and offered a smile that managed to be both friendly and cold at the same time.

"Do you see me, now, Ethari?" he asked.

Ethari let his eyes trail over the room one last time before answering. "I think so," he said quietly. "You're a private person, Runaan. You don't like company. You don't like frivolities. You're someone who focuses only on the necessities of life."

Runaan nodded, seemingly pleased by the assessment. "I'm practical," he agreed.

"You're lonely."

Runaan's face hardened, and before he could say anything, Ethari pressed on.

"This isn't the home of someone who enjoys life," he said. "It's the home of someone who just puts up with it as a means to an end. It's cold and hard and empty, Runaan. Is that what you wanted me to see of you?"

Runaan's jaw tightened visibly. His gaze skipped over the sparse furnishings around him before settled back upon Ethari's face. "You're making assumptions again," he said in a low, dangerous tone.

"Am I wrong?"

A long silence fell between them, tense and brittle. Runaan started to speak, thought better of it, and turned to walk towards the door before trying again. "I enjoy my privacy," he said carefully. "And I don't like socializing. But..." He took a breath and turned back to face Ethari. "There are times that I do envy people like you," he admitted. "You are honest with your emotions, and have no fear of how they might be perceived. I can't do that. One day, I will be looked to as a leader––someone who can make difficult decisions when entire world is about to crash down around us. I can't be warm. I can't be soft. I can't be someone who fills his life with meaningless clutter." He spread his arms out to indicate his home as a whole. "This is who I am, Ethari. Simple. Practical. Dedicated. I surround myself with the things that allow me to be the best I can be. If you think my life empty, then so be it."

Ethari's fists clenched at his sides, and he bowed his head to hide his expression. He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Runaan what a terrible mindset that was, and to urge him to see things from a fresh perspective. But they weren't that close, yet. Ethari didn't want to endanger the tentative truce they had finally started to form.

"Now it's your turn."

Ethari jerked his head up in surprise. "My turn?" he echoed. "For what?"

"To show me your home."

Runaan opened the door and held it open expectantly. As his words sank in, a sudden horror overcame Ethari. "Me?" he squawked in alarm. "My home? What, right now?"

"Is there a problem, Ethari?" Runaan made a beckoning motion. His shoulders tensing, Ethari managed to make himself walk stiffly across the threshold to step outside.

"I––no," he stammered. "I mean, this is––I wasn't really expecting company––"

"All the better," came the light reply as Runaan closed the door. "I will see you for who you really are. That is the point of all this, after all. I have not interest in viewing a staged home."

_Oh, shit._

Ethari followed Runaan down the long, curving steps back to the base of the tree. As he walked, hundreds of excuses sprang to mind, each more desperate than the last. Not one of them sounded believable.

_Can't come over. Family visiting. Oh, you want to meet them? Shit. Okay, can't come over. I'm redecorating. Oh, you want to help me move furniture? Fuck. Okay, can't come over. I locked the door and lost the key. What do you mean you can kick the door down? Stop trying to help me!_

The imaginary conversations tumbled through Ethari's mind as they headed out of the somber residential district and back onto the main road. This was going to be a disaster. Ethari hadn't had anyone visit him in years––and for a damned good reason! He wasn't prepared for this at all!

"You've gone quiet," Runaan noted. "Are you unwell?"

_That could work. I could tell him I'm about to projectile vomit directly into his gorgeous hair. Though with my luck, he'd insist on walking me home anyway._

"I'm fine," Ethari mumbled. "Just..." He trailed off, uncertain of how to articulate just how terrified he was of letting anyone into his house. Runaan slowed, then stopped to regard him speculatively.

"You don't want me to visit," he said.

Guilt flowed through Ethari. "It's...it's not that," he began, and Runaan held up a hand to stop him.

"You've decided you'd rather not associate with me," Runaan said coolly. "I understand. I'm not good company. Perhaps this is for the best." He bowed respectfully. "Good evening, Ethari. Thank you for the dance."

Runaan started to walk off. Ethari stared mutely after him––then trotted forward to catch up. "Wait!" he called out. "Runaan––" He matched his pace to Runaan's and tried to catch his eye. "It's not that," he repeated urgently. "I still want to be friends. If you want to come over––"

"Very well. This way, wasn't it?" Runaan veered off towards a different road. Cursing silently, Ethari followed after him. He had no idea how to salvage this situation.

Runaan led the way to the small cluster of homes that boarded the edge of the market district. As they neared the bright green door that marked the entranceway to Ethari's home, Ethari rubbed his face anxiously. "Uh...Runaan," he started. "I'm not...my house isn't as nice as yours."

"It doesn't need to be."

"That's not..." Ethari made an abortive move to stop Runaan as he reached for the door handle. "It's not as organized, I mean," he said quickly. "And it's smaller. Things are a little cluttered."

Runaan paused, his fingertips lighting upon the handle as he slanted a bemused smile at him. "Is a mountain of garbage going to fall atop me when I open the door?" he asked with a wry arch of his brow. Ethari stared at him weakly.

"It might..."

Runaan snorted. "I'm certain it's fine, Ethari," he said as he pulled upon the handle. "I've found you to be a well put together individual thus far. How bad could things possibly..." He trailed off as the lighting gems began to illuminate the interior. His eyes widened, and his hand slipped slowly from the handle. "Moon have mercy," he whispered.

Ethari hid his face in his hands. For a long moment, Runaan was silent. Then, Ethari heard him venture a step inside. With a low groan, Ethari lowered his hands and followed after.

It was worse than he had remembered.

A table was pushed back at an angle against one wall, its surface completely obscured by plates, clothing, papers. The several chairs shoved around it had books and tools heaped upon them, with more crowding the floor around the table's legs. A heavy dusting of ash blanketed the floor in front of the hearth, where a spattered pot of food still hung. A countertop lead away from it; the cupboards beneath were partially ajar, too stuffed full of items to close all the way. The countertop itself was littered with utensils and papers, tools and projects, carvings and knickknacks. More items were stacked along the floor beside it. On the wall, a series of shelves fairly burst with miscellaneous items he had stuffed into them. Everywhere his eyes fell, there was a mess––one years in the making.

He was afraid to look at Runaan.

"Well," he mumbled quietly. "Here I am."

Runaan didn't answer. He picked his way across the mess on the floor to stand in the center of the room, turning slowly to take in the chaos that surrounded him. He glanced at the row of cupboards and tentatively pulled one open––only to dance backwards as a waterfall of pots and pans spilled out over his feet. Ethari's face burned.

"I was cleaning a few days ago," he started weakly, "so everything's sort of moved around...haven't put it all away yet..."

"I'm not interested in your excuses." Runaan backed away from the cupboards and eased towards the hearth. "This is exactly what I wanted to see."

Ethari huffed out an incredulous laugh. "I find that doubtful."

"Not at all." Runaan turned a thin smile towards him. "I wanted to see you. And here you are."

Ethari couldn't meet his gaze. He looked away to survey his home. "Yeah," he muttered. "Slovenly. Disgusting. Disorganized––"

"Creative," Runaan interrupted. "Active. I can see your thought process at work. Look here." He pointed to the pot hanging in the hearth. "You were cooking recently. The wood is still wet from being doused. You must have suddenly remembered the festival and ran off to attend. You wouldn't have been cooking, otherwise. There was food aplenty at the festival."

_He's not running away screaming._ Ethari clasped his hands before his mouth, barely daring to breathe. "Slipped my mind," he replied quietly. At the hearth, Runaan investigated the contents of the pot, then moved along the line of the counter.

"There's no room at the table," he murmured as he picked up a serving spoon still coated in goop. "You eat standing up. After serving yourself, you walked this way and became distracted." He placed the spoon on the counter, and his fingertips traced the rim of a half-filled bowl. "You set your bowl down, unfinished. These papers..." He pushed the bowl aside to flip through a stack of papers––schematics Ethari had been working on over the past several months. "You had an idea. Perhaps one of those inventions you mentioned earlier. Here's the charcoal you were writing with." Runaan picked up a small piece of charcoal, studied it, then frowned and looked back at the schematics. "It's a different shade than the markings on these papers, though. These are older. Where's the new one?" He looked up and scanned the room, then left the counter to step over a pile of sheets waiting to be washed and crossed over to a chair Ethari had dragged beside one of the illumination gems. "Ah," Runaan murmured. "You walked towards the light to see better. Here's another piece of charcoal. And a sketchbook. And the only chair without items piled atop it. You sat here to work, lost yourself in thought, then recalled the festival and dropped everything to the floor to douse the fire and run off. Is that correct?"

He looked back at Ethari for verification. Hands still clasped before his lips, Ethari nodded, and Runaan nodded back. "I thought so. Do you know what I see, Ethari?" He looked towards the table, a faint smile ghosting over his lips. "I see a man with far more chairs than he needs and a table too large for a single person. And I see someone who enjoys cooking, judging by the types of cooking utensils you've been using. You'd love nothing more than to have guests over. You'd enjoy cooking with them, eating with them, sharing your ideas with them. Yet you're too afraid to do so, because you haven't yet learned how to organize your personal space. Even your workstation back at the smithy was cluttered like this. You have too many ideas. You try to get them all done at once, and so you forget about inconsequential things like folding your laundry and dusting your shelves. You're always eager to start something new. That's...interesting."

Ethari took a deep breath, and winced as the sharp scent of metal and charred wood invaded his nostrils. Runaan's home hadn't smelled like this. It hadn't smelled of anything. It had just been... _clean._ "It's still a mess," Ethari said unhappily. "I'm sorry you had to see it. I didn't want––"

"Stop apologizing for everything," Runaan interrupted as he flipped through the sketchbook. "If you keep up that habit, you'll start convincing yourself that you're at fault for things you never even did."

Ethari looked around dubiously. "I _did_ do this."

Runaan looked up from the sketchbook. "Are you embarrassed?" he asked mildly. Ethari let out a mirthless laugh and gestured helplessly at the mess surrounding them.

"Of course I am," he said. "Wouldn't _you_ be embarrassed?"

"I'd be humiliated," came the blunt response. "But all the more reason to do something about it." Runaan dropped the sketchbook upon the chair and tucked his side locks behind his ears. Rolling up his sleeves, he moved back to the counter and began to stack the bowls. Ethari watched him, horrified.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Cleaning."

_"Why?"_

"Because it needs to get done." Runaan set the stack of bowls aside and started rooting around the clutter in search of plates. "You obviously recognize that this is a problem," he said calmly. "And I can see how much it bothers you. I don't know if it's lack of time or lack of motivation that keeps you from taking care of it, but this problem needs to be addressed."

Ethari took a hesitant step forward. "Yeah, but... _now?"_

"Things that need doing need to get done. Why _not_ now?" Runaan collected a large mixing bowl and began to collect silverware to drop into it. "Fetch me some water to wash these, then clear everything off of those shelves behind you," he instructed. "We'll need a place to begin organizing your supplies. I'll help you once I'm done with these dishes."

Ethari didn't move. He watched silently at Runaan set to work, silently marveling that anyone would want to spend more than three seconds in his home, much less commit to cleaning it. "Runaan...you don't have to do this," he said softly.

"I know," came the brisk response. "I choose to do it anyway."

Runaan was already crouched beside the hearth, using his bare hand to sweep ashes into a shallow pan. Ethari belatedly moved to the storage room nearby to collect a few disused cleaning supplies and offered them to Runaan.

"Thank you, Runaan," he said earnestly. "I mean it."

Runaan glanced up, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he accepted the cleaning supplies. There was a faint flush darkening his cheeks as he bent his head again, and when he spoke, his voice had taken on a gruff note. "Save your thanks for when the job is complete," he said. "We've got a lot of work to do."

Ethari laughed breathlessly. He couldn't believe this. And he sure as hell wasn't going to argue. He returned to the storage room to collect a deep water basin and carried it outside to fill it at the well. As he drew the water bucket up from the well, he shook his head, both mystified and amused by the strange turn of events that had led to this moment. This was definitely not a normal way of going about making new friends.

But he got the feeling that there would be nothing normal about a relationship with Runaan.

_A relationship..._

Ethari's face warmed. He filled the basin and tossed the bucket back into the well before heading back. He wasn't sure what, exactly, was happening between them, but there was no denying that he wanted to see where it led. Runaan was a mystery...

And Ethari wanted to be the one who solved him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Oh, I ache..._

Runaan winced as he roused slowly from sleep. Soft as his bed was, it had done nothing to ease the ache of overused muscles from a full night of work.

_Five hours. And we still didn't finish._

He rolled over and hissed as his back protested with a sharp twinge that shot up between his shoulder blades.

He'd never cleaned that much in his entire life.

Runaan curled up and hugged this corner of his blanket to his chest as he buried his face in the fine fabric. How could anyone let their home get like that? How could they live in such squalor, and not think to clean it? He was going to have _nightmares,_ after this!

Still...there was something immensely satisfying about bringing order to chaos.

Runaan slit his eyes open as he thought back to state he had left Ethari's home in. The change had been astonishing. Ethari had a cozy home under all the junk he had accumulated over the years, and to see it organized properly––even with the several large baskets filled with odds and ends still waiting to be put away––had been such a relief.

Runaan chuckled quietly to himself. Ethari had been so surprised at all the things he had uncovered over the course of several hours. Each time, his face had lit up, his eyes growing wide as he exclaimed in startled pleasure his delight in having unearthed yet another treasure.

_If he gets that excited over forgotten trash, how would he react to an actual gift?_

Runaan's lips curled at the thought, and he shoved his blanket away to get up. Gifts? The last thing Ethari needed was more junk to clutter up his house!

_He'd better keep it clean, after all that work I did,_ Runaan thought sullenly as he started to make his bed. _I'll be sure to visit again in a few days to inspect it. If I see so much as a single spoon out of place, I'll have him scrub the entire house from top to bottom!_

He finished making the bed, and moved around his house getting ready for the night. For a satisfying hour, he indulged in a series of stretches and light exercises before finally heading outside. He didn't have many errands today, and hadn't received any new assignments from his mentor––and with the second day of the festival in full swing, it wasn't likely he'd find any fellow assassins waiting around to spar with. Still, there was no reason why he couldn't patrol Slivergrove, just to see what was happening.

Runaan trotted down the steps that curled around his tree home and made his way into the market. Here, artisans and craftsmen of all kinds crowded a series of buildings and stalls to lay out their wares. There would be no monetary exchanges, of course. Coin was so coarse, so vile. True Moonshadow Elves took pride in the things they created, and offered their products to whomever needed it. Trade was always appreciated, but there was never an immediate expectation of return. For a few hours every day, venders would fill these buildings for the convince of fellow elves looking to socialize while gathering supplies. For the rest of the day, they would tend to their own devices, and anyone who needed their expertise would need to go searching for them.

Runaan walked slowly through the market, quietly taking in the subtle changes that the festival had brought. So many people were wearing flower crowns, this night. A fair number of them even had the flowers braided around their horns with long ribbons trailing down from the tips. _Ridiculous,_ Runaan thought. Back in Moonshire, this would be considered a holy day meant for solitary reflection and renewed resolutions for the upcoming year. There would be a pervasive sense of respect and decorum. None of this frivolous––

Something thumped atop Runaan's head, jarring him from his thoughts. He ducked and swung around, his hands snapping instinctively to his hips to seize the handles of his blades. A moment later, he relaxed, his hands dropping to his sides and he heaved a heavy sigh. "Tiadrin," he greeted in exasperation. "Must you always sneak up on me?" As he spoke, he patted gingerly at his head. Sure enough, he could feel the soft, silky petals of flowers. With a roll of his eyes, he slipped the flower crown off and held it back out.

"No, wear it!" Tiadrin insisted. "Come on, Runaan. Loosen up. It's Moon's Rise! This is the only time of the year where it's okay to look silly." She made a shooing motion at the flower crown. "Go on. Back on your head."

"No." A child ran by, with a second one chasing gleefully after her. Runaan flicked out his hand to toss the crown towards the youngest. It whisked through the air and landed neatly atop her head, nearly sliding off before catching upon the stub of her horn. She looked over her shoulder in surprise, and beamed happily before turning forward again to disappear around a vender's stall. Tiadrin's brows rose approvingly.

"I'd complain," she mused, "but that was adorable."

_"Hmph."_ Runaan turned to continue down the main road. Tiadrin fell into step beside him, and he studied her out of the corner of his eye. She, too, had flowers woven along the curved length of her horns. Multi colored ribbons crowned the tips, flowing behind her as she walked, some of them with tiny bells tied at the very ends. She looked to be in a festive mood, but Runaan couldn't help but to recall the grief on her face the previous night as Lain had led her away from the pavilion.

_It's really none of my business, but..._

Runaan cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Are you doing all right, Tiadrin?" he asked.

Tiadrin shot him a confused glance. "Of course I am," she returned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Lain told me about the roster for the––"

"Bleeding red moon, does he have to tell _everyone?"_ Tiadrin clapped her hands to her face to smother a frustrated growl, then threw them into the air. "Runaan, I'm fine!" she snapped. "It's just a minor setback. I'll train harder, and by this time next year, they'll be begging for Lain and me to report to the Storm Spire. The Dragon Queen herself will ask for me by name. You'll see."

"Ah." Runaan fell silent for a moment. He glanced at her again, and seeing her gnawing worriedly on her lower lip, lowered his voice. "And will Rayla be with you?"

Tiadrin pressed her hands to her face again. "Runaan, I don't..." She rubbed her brows tiredly. "I don't know," she admitted. "I've run through so many scenarios in my mind. Take her with us. Leave her here. Wait until she's grown before volunteering. None of them feel right. I don't want to abandon her. And I don't want to endanger her. I know there's no rush. There's no reason why I shouldn't just wait."

Runaan hesitated. He wanted to lay his hand upon her shoulder, perhaps even give her a consoling side hug. But both would have been inappropriate, especially in public. Other elves may have been willing to let their inhibitions go during the festival, but Runaan held himself to a higher standard. "You have plenty of time, Tiadrin," he said instead. "The Dragonguard rotates regularly. When your time finally comes, you'll want to be ready for it. Use this time to train and grow––not just as a fighter, but as a person."

Tiadrin turned an amused look towards him. "You're encouraging me," she murmured. "How unlike you."

Was that an insult? Runaan straightened his back, offended by the implication. "You _know_ I have faith in you," he retorted.

"I know," came the reassuring chuckle. "But your compliments tend be kind of harsh. You keep hiding them in criticism."

"Do I really?"

Tiadrin scowled and pitched her voice lower in an effort to mimic Runaan's tone and accent. "'I'm disappointed in you, Tiadrin. I don't understand how someone so strong can be so slow.'"

Runaan's lips thinned at the impression. "Maybe you'd be faster if you'd spar without your armor for once," he muttered. Tiadrin instantly brightened, her lips splitting in a eager grin.

"Are you challenging me?"

Wary of the sudden interest, Runaan raised a hand in warding. "I wasn't––"

"The sparring ring is right down that way." Tiadrin gestured down a road that cut between two columns. "Wrestle me. No armor, no weapons. Let's go."

Runaan grimaced. He had been considering a good sparing session, but Tiadrin was a great deal stronger than he was––and a great deal more enthusiastic about fighting. Between his sore muscles and the pent up anger he suspected his friend was harboring, he did not see any good in taking Tiadrin up on her offer. "Not tonight," he sreplied. "I'm recovering from some unexpected manual labor I took part in yesterday. I'd be at a great disadvantage."

_"Oooh..."_ Tiadrin waggled her eyebrows and gave her arm a nudge. "Worked up a sweat somewhere, hmm?

"I suppose."

"Interesting. Very interesting."

There was a sly smiling hiding in Tiadrin's voice. Runaan eyed her suspiciously, not liking the almost smug expression now lighting her features.

"Why are you smirking like that?" he demanded.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

Runaan tensed at the feigned innocence, his senses already sharpening as he detected the potential for a plot. "You're planning something," he accused.

"No plans," Tiadrin insisted. "What, you think I'm going to throw you down right here in the street? Give me _some_ credit."

Runaan's eyes narrowed. He didn't trust that expression. He would need to keep his guard up.

"So..." Tiadrin patted at the flowers braided around her horns and looked around casually. "I heard you went back to Ethari's place after dancing with him. Stayed the whole night. What might the two of you have been doing, hmm?"

_Oh, for––_ Runaan scowled. He knew exactly what she was thinking. "I was only there for a few hours," he said defensively.

"Right. With Ethari. Alone in his house."

"We were cleaning."

_"Riiiiiiiight."_

Runaan halted. He turned to Tiadrin, his arms crossing irritably across his chest. "Is there something you're hinting at, Tiadrin?" There was a dangerous growl in his voice. Tiadrin raised her hands and took a step back to placate him.

"Of course not," she soothed. "Why would I be hinting at anything? I mean, it's not like the two of you shared a beautiful dance under the twinkling stars of the midnight sky, and then ran off to be alone for several hours. What could I possibly be hinting at?" Her innocent smile slanted into a leer. "Ethari was awfully sweaty when he came to tell me about it..."

Runaan's lips curled, and he strode away with a shake of his head. "You have a filthy mind."

"You going to offer to clean it for me?" Tiadrin trotted after him, still grinning as she tilted her head to see his face. Noting his irate expression, she sighed. "Okay, I'll stop." She was silent for a few seconds, then proceeded anyway. "But you know what I think? The two of you would be cute together."

"Hardly."

"He's exactly what you need, Runaan." Tiadrin drew closer as they walked, her voice lowering earnestly. "He's open and honest and warm, and you're..." She paused again. "Well, you're a project," she said. "Ethari likes projects."

Runaan glowered at her in reproach. "You're suggesting I have nothing to offer him?"

One of Tiadrin's eyebrows twitched as she attempted to keep a neutral expression. "Do you?"

"Of course I do!," Runaan scoffed. "I'm––" He stopped, then scowled again. "I see what you're doing," he muttered. "Clever."

"No, no, go ahead," Tiadrin urged gleefully. "Argue your case for why you'd be good for Ethari."

This was getting ridiculous. Runaan pointedly turned down a side road to get away from potential eavesdroppers and quickened his pace. "Ethari and I are just friends," he insisted. "Sort of. Whatever you're imagining has no basis in reality."

"Not yet. Give me a few days. I'll work on it for you."

"Work on what?"

There was no immediate answer. Runaan halted and turned expectantly towards her, only to find that Tiadrin had already started to trail behind. She wasn't even looking at him; her gaze was trained upwards and away. Runaan followed her gaze up the mountain. Even from this vantage, he could see the prominent arches of the smithy's entrance.

"Nothing," Tiadrin murmured absently.

"Tiadrin––"

Tiadrin started walking backwards and turned a sly smile towards him. "I need to go see someone," she said. "Let's talk later."

"Tiadrin! Don't––"

Tiadrin spun around and took off at a run. Alarmed, Runaan shot another look towards the smithy, then started to give chase. After only a few steps, he skidded to a halt. He would catch Tiadrin easily, but she would make a scene about it––perhaps even take the opportunity to get in that wrestling match she had been so eager to initiate. She was headed straight back into the market. Everyone would be staring at them. At _him._

Runaan cursed and darted off the road into the untamed foliage that wove through SIlvergrove. Ignoring the twinging aches in his muscles, he sprang off a boulder into a series of tree branches and flitted his way through the trees and over rooftops to launch himself into the level that overlooked the market. Landing with a hiss of combined pain and frustration, Runaan sprinted down the road towards the smithy. If catching Tiadrin wouldn't work, he could at least cut her off before she reached her destination.

The arches of the smithy grew larger as he neared. Runaan stopped not far from it and approached the ledge that overlooked the market. A flash of silver armor caught his attention; Tiadrin was still puffing her way of the street on the level below. Good. He still had time. Runaan turned back to the smithy and strode purposefully through the arches. He ignored Faleth as he passed the master blacksmith and continued to the back of the smithy. There, he could see Ethari working with his back to him. Runaan started to call his name, then fell silent as he noticed the drastic change that had come over Ethari's work space. The work table, the benches, the shelves...all had been completely cleared off. A pile of tools, papers, and projects littered the floor at Ethari's feet, and Ethari was diligently sorting through them to select particular items. Runaan watched in mild surprise as Ethari placed series of jars neatly on one of the shelves and turned them so that the labels faced outwards.

He must have made some manner of sound. Ethari shot a startled look over his shoulder, and his expression broke into one of eager recognition. "Runaan!" he greeted excitedly. "I wasn't expecting you! Look––" He twisted to gesture at his newly cleaned work station. "I started organizing everything. I'm using all the tips you gave me. Thanks again for last night. I didn't think––"

"Come with me." Runaan seized Ethari's wrist and tugged him away. Brows jumping in surprise, Ethari stumbled after him towards the entrance. As they passed Faleth again, Runaan shot him a dark glower. "Don't tell _anyone_ I was here," he said.

"You can't just come in here and kidnap my apprentice whenever you want," Faleth returned with a shake of his hammer. "He's got work to do."

"It's okay, Faleth," Ethari said as he was yanked through the aches. "I'll be back soon."

They left the smithy. Runaan dragged Ethari away––not down the road leading back to the market, but in the opposite direction, towards the dead end behind the smithy that opened into an overhang overlooking a series of communal vegetable gardens. Runaan yanked Ethari out of sight and shoved him behind a cluster of bushes, then crouched down beside him to take watch. From the concealing safety of the bushes, he would be able to keep watch on the smithy entrance without being seen.

"So."

Runaan looked over his shoulder. Ethari was crouched beside him, a damnably wide grin on his face.

"You've dragged me to a secluded location," Ethari teased. "What might be on your mind, Runaan?"

Runaan snorted and looked back down the road. "We're hiding," he said shortly.

"From who?"

"Tiadrin."

"Why are we hiding from Tiadrin?"

"Because she's got it in her head to play matchmaker," Runaan snapped.

"Oh?" Ethari mused. "With who?"

"With us!"

For several seconds, there was silence. Then, a flat, "Oh, no. That's terrible."

The faintly sarcastic tone took Runaan off guard. He shifted his balance to rest on one knee and turned to stare incredulously at Ethari. "You approve of her meddling?"

Ethari settled himself to sit more comfortably upon the ground. "We could definitely use the help," he replied with a shrug.

"What do you mean, we need the help?" Runaan demanded. "Help with what?"

Ethari's brows furrowed. He looked back at Runaan, confusion settling upon his face. "With us," he said as though the answer should have been obvious.

Runaan only stared blankly at him. "What _about_ us?"

The confused expression deepened. Ethari hesitated, then gestured vaguely in the direction of his home. "Last night," he started slowly. "Wasn't that..." He paused. Seeing the utter lack of comprehension on Runaan's face, his shoulders slumped in realization. "Runaan, what was your intention last night?" he asked tiredly. "You were at my house for five hours––"

"Right," Runaan agreed. "Cleaning."

"But _before_ that!" A flicker of anger flited over Ethari's features. "Runaan, we had that whole conversation about romance, and then you had me come to your house. You said you wanted me to see you. I thought you were initiating a relationship. Weren't you?"

Runaan's eyes widened. "We barely know each other!" he objected in an urgent hiss. "You said yourself I make you feel like shit!"

_"I know!"_ Fed up, Ethari shoved himself to his knees and scooted closer to Runaan. "You're an absolute bastard, Runaan. But then you say something or do something, and it makes me feel good, and it doesn't make any sense, but... _I like it._ After last night, I thought––" He broke off, his eyes boring into Runaan's as though searching for something. Runaan broke the gaze and turned his attention to the ground.

"Those comments you made at the reflecting pool," he murmured after a moment's consideration. "You asked how to seduce me. I thought you were joking."

"I was _flirting_ with you, Runaan," came the flat retort, and Runaan shot him a look of disgust.

"With _potatoes?"_

_"You're_ the one who––" Ethari broke off again with a frustrated growl and shoved himself backwards to sit against the rocky face of the mountain. "This is why we need help!" he exclaimed angrily. "I––" He raised a hand and closed his eyes, his head falling back to thump against the mountain side. "Okay," he said in exasperation. "Stop talking. I need to think." He pressed his palms to his face and rubbed his fingertips against his eyebrows. For a long while, he didn't speak. Runaan watched him warily, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had turned. Had Ethari really thought Runaan had been trying to make a move on him?

A cold lump settled in the pit of his stomach at the thought. Strangely, there was an answering ripple of warmth that suffused his chest. No one had ever declared an interest in him before. It felt... _good._ Runaan thought back to Tiadrin and Lain's wedding. They had seemed so happy to have found one another. Runaan recalled the wistfulness he had felt, witnessing their vows. He never expected to experience the same sort of closeness they so obviously shared. Runaan knew he was reserved. He knew he could be critical and abrasive and hard. Those weren't desirable qualities in a potential lover. If Ethari saw something in him...

_There might be hope for me yet._

"Runaan," Ethari finally said. He dropped his hands to his lap and looked back at him unhappily. "There's something between us. I don't know what it is, but I think it's worth pursuing. Since subtle cues obviously aren't going to work with you, I'm going to be as blunt as I possibly can be right now." He paused, then took a breath and continued. "Runaan I would very much like to spend more time with you. I know we've had our differences, but I find you attractive and interesting and––and I just want to get to know you better. If you see any of that in me, tell me now."

Runaan only gaped at him. _What is this?_ he thought frantically. _What is he asking for? A closer friendship? Or is he declaring romantic intent? What's the protocol for that? How do I respond?_

Runaan's gaze flicked over Ethari. His fingers were fidgeting together. His breath was shallow and faster than usual. _He's nervous,_ Runaan realized. This wasn't simply a request for friendship, then. It was more. Runaan curled his fingers against the ground, his throat growing dry as he attempted to make sense of the moment. He wasn't prepared for this.

_And I shouldn't_ have _to be._

Runaan's expression hardened. He may not have had experience in declaring affection, but he knew damned well that this wasn't the proper way to do it. "No," he said firmly. "This isn't how it's supposed to work. There's supposed to be a period of courtship. An exchange of tokens, indications of mutual interest, gestures of closeness that indicate a desire for intimacy before––"

"Runaan, I wrapped flowers around your swords," Ethari interrupted sharply. "You admired my muscles, and then invited me to your home after we danced together and talked about romance. Then you followed me home and dove elbow deep into my dirty laundry. The gestures were all there. It's not _my_ fault you were too dim to recognize them!"

Runaan's jaw dropped. "How dare you––"

"Give me a response, Runaan!" Ethari demanded. "I want to know you better. Do you return my interest, or would you rather I leave you be? I'm tired of misunderstanding everything. Just tell me what you want!"

There was a heat to his voice that Runaan hadn't expected of him; a temper that was finally coming to the surface after being buried under a deceptively placid nature. Runaan had only seen glimpses of it before. Now, with Ethari staring at him and clenching his fists as though he was getting ready to throttle someone. Seeing his expression, Runaan realized that there would be no backing out of the conversation without either agreeing to be courted or rejecting Ethari entirely.

Runaan hissed out a curse and raked his fingers through his hair. He wasn't ready to make _either_ decision.

"Moon above," he snarled finally. " _Fine._ Ethari, I cordially invite you to my home for a meal, date and time to be determined. We can see how well we get along."

"Tonight," Ethari insisted. "Right before the sun rises."

"Agreed," Runaan shot back. "Satisfied?"

With a curt nod, Ethari leaned back and crossed his arms. "I am."

"Good," Runaan muttered. "And don't you dare breathe a word of this to––"

_"There_ you are!"

Runaan jerked back, nearly falling over as he twisted towards the familiar voice. Behind him, standing in the road with her hands on her hips and a bright grin on her face, was Tiadrin.

"What are the two of you doing, hiding in the bushes like this?" she teased gleefully.

His teeth bared in a scowl, Runaan pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his pants. "Don't start, Tiadrin."

"What, you think I'm just going to let this slide?" Tiadrin retorted happily as Ethari stood beside him. "Sneaky, sneaky, Runaan. Running ahead of me to sweep Ethari off his feet before I had a chance to intervene. You just didn't want me to have the satisfaction of being the one to get the two of you together." She arched her brows meaningfully and winked at Ethari. Ethari offered a shy smile as he rubbed the back of his head, and Tiadrin shifted her gaze curiously back to Runaan. Seeing a dark flush creeping over his cheeks, her jaw dropped in shock. "Blessed Moon, _seriously?"_ she gasped. "Runaan, I was just joking! Are the two of you actually––"

"We've got a date," Ethari said proudly. Runaan cringed, and Tiadrin clapped her hands together in delight.

"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed. "When? Where? Should I prepare anything for you? We could double date! Oh, Lain's going to _love_ this!"

Runaan pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hate you both," he muttered, and Tiadrin leered at him.

"Oh, I get it," she said slyly. "You want privacy. Alone time. _Got it._ Say no more. I'll leave you alone." She raised her hands and took a few slow steps backwards. There, she paused, her hands clasping as she looked proudly between her two friends. The moment was too much for her to relinquish; she scooted forward again, her fingers weaving beneath her chin as she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So when did it happen?" she asked. "Was it the dance? _I knew it!_ You looked so perfect togeth––Runaan, wait!" she called out as Runaan abruptly turned to stalk away. "Come back! I'm not done teasing you!"

Runaan strode to the edge of the overhang and jumped over it. From somewhere below, there was a sudden rustle of tree leaves, then a series of creaking branches and a faint thump of boots striking the ground. Tiadrin sighed and straightened, her fists planting themselves upon her hips as she turned her attention back to Ethari. "So what do you think?" she asked.

Ethari huffed out a laugh, still rubbing the back of his head. "He's...interesting," he replied.

"He takes some getting used to, but he's a good person."

"He hides it well."

Tiadrin crossed her arms and walked casually to the edge of the ledge. Below, she could see Runaan walking swiftly out of the vegetable gardens. A soft smile lit upon her lips, and she turned back to Ethari. "He's worth it," she said fondly. "Trust me."

She wandered back over to him and studied his expression. _He looks satisfied,_ she thought silently, though there was a nervous uncertainty hovering at the corners of his lips. Was he already having second thoughts? Tiadrin sobered immediately. Her hands rose to her horns, and she began absently picking apart some of the braided stems. "Listen, Ethari," she said quietly. "If you're only going along with it for fun, do me a favor and cancel. I guarantee you, Runaan wouldn't agree to something like this if he wasn't serious about seeing where it leads." She plucked a few flowers away and reached up to start winding them around one of Ethari's horns. "Runaan isn't someone who trusts easily," she continued as he stooped down to allow her better access. "But when he does, he trusts with his whole heart. Take care not to break it."

"What," Ethari chuckled. "No concern for _my_ heart?"

As he straightened, Tiadrin gave his shoulder an affectionate pat. "You're strong," she replied. "You'd recover and find someone else. I don't think he would." She took a deep breath and stretched her arms above her head. "Well," she said cheerfully, "don't let me keep you from getting ready for your date. Make sure you tell me everything when its over. I expect _details,_ Ethari, _details!"_ She paused, then grimaced. "Unless you somehow succeed in immediately seducing him, in which case leave the details in the bedroom."

Ethari snorted. "I'll restrain myself, Tiadrin," he replied dryly. "I promise."

With a laugh and a wave, Tiadrin trotted off. As Ethari started walking sedately back to the smithy, he pressed his palms to his cheeks. Bright moon, he had actually invited Runaan on a date. No...he had bullied Runaan into asking _him_ on a date! What had he been thinking? What had _Runaan_ been thinking?

Ethari's cheeks grew hot, and he shifted his hands to cover his ears instead. This would be fine, he assured himself. No pressure. They'd share a meal, have a casual conversation, and see if it sparked anything between them. If it did, they could proceed to the appropriate courtship rituals. If not, the clarification would ease away the tension, and they'd still be friends.

_I hope._

He walked back through the arches and gave Faleth a distracted greeting before returning to his work station. There, he stood quietly before his table, staring dully at the empty expanse of wood. Runaan had been so insistent about getting his home clean. Ethari had promised him that he would keep working on it. He'd even gone so far as to start organizing his work space. It was difficult; cleaning didn't come naturally to Ethari. He wasn't sure he would be able to maintain it.

But the thought of Runaan coming back and seeing a mess was too terrifying to ignore. Ethari could just _see_ the look of disappointment darkening Runaan's features. The mental image sent a shudder down Ethari's spine. If this date did end up leading to a relationship, Ethari would need to do a better job of staying organized. Runaan was obviously someone with high standards, and Ethari intended to do everything he could to meet them.

_I can do better._

Jaw set in determination, Ethari crouched beside the pile of materials still waiting to be sorted and set to work.

He'd worry about the date later.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Runaan crouched beside his hearth. The splints of wood he had stacked in the corner were ready, the ashes of the previous fire already swept away. With a soft hum of approval, he set up a warming rack in the other corner and placed a basket of fresh bread upon it. The heat from the main fire would keep it warm, once he began to cook.

A pot of water was resting nearby. Runaan hefted it onto the hook in the back of the hearth and adjusted it to hang above the wood, then pushed himself to his feet to go over everything else he needed to have prepared. The chair from beside the door had already been moved to the table. Plates had been set out. A jug of moonberry juice was chilling inside of the enchanted cooling box. Should he prepare a second jug for water, in case Ethari didn't like moonberry juice?

_That's ridiculous._ Everyone _likes moonberry juice._

Runaan poured a jug of water anyway. He wasn't going to be caught unprepared by something so trivial.

On the counter built into the wall of his central living space, ingredients were laid out in individual containers, each one meticulously measured. Though he wanted to begin cooking immediately, he didn't want Ethari to think he was rushing him out the door. Runaan would wait until just before Ethari arrived before setting the fire. The two of them could talk while the food cooked.

There was a knock on the door.

Runaan froze, a mixing bowl tucked under his arm as he shot a startled glance to the door. Ethari wasn't due for another half hour! Cursing, Runaan quickly set the bowl down, grabbed his flint, and stuck a few embers into the hearth to get the fire started. Straightening, he ran his fingers over his hair, tugged a wrinkle out of his tunic, and took a quick breath. This was it. He was ready.

With a nod of determination, Runaan strode across the room and eased the door open. "Good evening," he greeted. "You're––" He stopped, and his voice fell flat. "Oh. It's you."

"Sorry to disappoint you." Lain gestured casually towards the inside of Runaan's home. "Mind if I come in?"

Runaan glanced over his shoulder, then sighed and nodded. As he stepped aside to let Lain enter, Lain gave his shoulder a pat. "I'm expecting company," Runaan warned him as he closed the door behind them. "Don't expect me to feed you."

"I won't stay long." Lain stopped several paces in and looked around curiously. "Look at that," he noted in a lighter tone. "Two chairs at the table. This must be someone special."

Runaan snorted. Tiadrin had obviously told Lain about Ethari. With a fond shake of his head, he returned to the counter and moved the mixing bowl to its appropriate place beside the ingredients. "Ethari requested that we spend some time together to see if we might be compatible," he said as he selected a knife for the vegetables waiting to be chopped. "I agreed. There's nothing special about it."

"Really." Lain pulled one of the chairs back and dropped into it. As he rested his arms upon the table and crossed his ankle over his thigh, Runaan quickly looked away.

"You came here for a reason," he replied. "What is it you want?"

"You know what I want."

Runaan's grip tightened on the handle of the knife for a moment. Gritting his teeth, he set it beside the vegetables and turned to lean against the counter. "Fine," he agreed. "I know what you're thinking. You're shocked and amazed that I'm inviting Ethari over for dinner. You never expected me to connect with anyone, much less someone like Ethari, and you can't quite grasp what led up to it. You think this is a mistake, you're worried that I might get hurt, and you want to warn me against leading Ethari on if I'm not actually interested. Does that cover everything?"

Lain's brow rose slowly as Runaan spoke. He leaned forward and dropped his foot to the floor to clasp his hands between his knees instead. "I'm here to get back that book you I lent you," he said. "You've had it for three months."

Heat flared across Runaan's cheeks. Without a word, he shoved away from the counter and trotted up the steps to his bedroom to pluck the book in question off his bookshelf. When he got back to the main level, it was to find Lain casually picking through the ingredients and chewing on a piece of bread.

"Here." Runaan shoved the book into Lain's hands, and Lain grinned around the bread he had helped himself to.

"Thanks," he said. He swallowed quickly and shoved the remaining piece into his pocket, then tucked the book into the front fold of his tunic. "So. A date with Ethari, huh?"

"Don't act like Tiadrin didn't already tell you."

As Runaan pointedly began to straighten out the disarray Lain had left of the ingredients, Lain let out an embarrassed hum. "I wasn't going to bring it up," he admitted. "But since you already did––"

"I don't need your advice."

"Too bad. You're getting it anyway." Lain gestured to the display of food waiting to be cooked. "This is nice," he offered. "There's nothing here Ethari won't like. Are you waiting for him to get here before you start cooking? Let him help. It'll keep you both busy if you run out of things to say. And he likes cooking. It'll be fun." Lain looked at Runaan out of the corner of his eye. "Those were awfully specific things you were saying, earlier," he added. "You really assumed I thought this would be a mistake, and that I'd accuse you of leading Ethari on?"

Runaan ran his hands absently through his hair. "Don't try to analyze me, Lain. This is already a stressful situation. I just want to get this all over with as quickly as possible so that Ethari will understand that I'm..." Runaan trailed off and looked away. Concerned, Lain tilted his head to see his face.

"That you're what?" he asked quietly. "That you're wrong for him? That you're not worth knowing?"

"I didn't say that," Runaan snapped, and Lain chuckled softly.

"I know you a lot better than you think I do, Runaan," he said as he crossed back to the table. He pushed the chair into place, studied the layout of the plates, and finally turned to regard Runaan with a challenging gaze. "You know what I think?" he said. "I think you're afraid you might actually like Ethari. You want to reject him before he has a chance to reject you, because caring about people makes you weak."

"I'm not––"

"Runaan, those were your exact words the last time I suggested introducing you to someone."

Runaan didn't respond. He turned his back to Lain and prodded at a bowl of dough to see if it was ready. After several moments, Lain crossed the room again to rest a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"You're setting yourself up for failure," he sighed. "Give him a chance, Runaan. Don't look at this like a chore you have to get through. It's an _opportunity."_ He waved a hand to indicate the counter again. "This is already more than you've ever done for anyone, myself and Tiadrin included. That means you're at least curious. And if you can't admit that to me, then at least admit that to yourself." With another pat on the shoulder, Lain released him and started for the door.

"Lain."

Lain paused with his hand on the door handle and looked over his shoulder. Behind him, Runaan turned the bowl of dough slowly between his palms before finally looking up.

"Thank you."

Lain grinned. Inclining his head slightly in acknowledgment, he stabbed a finger towards him. "Stop forgetting to return my books."

Lain stepped outside and shut the door. Chuckling to himself, Runaan looked towards the hearth, then back to his selection of ingredients. The meal he intended to prepare wasn't a complex one, but some of it would take a while. He might as well get the filling started.

It was nearly twenty minutes later that another knock sounded at the door. Runaan quickly wiped off his hands and left the counter to answer it. "Ethari," he acknowledged. "Thank you for coming."

Ethari stood at the threshold, a sheepish smile hovering upon his lips. It looked as though he had polished his horns, Runaan noted. His clothing was nicer as well, and the faint scent of the smithy that usually emanated from him was absent, replaced by something sweet and light.

Runaan's nose wrinkled. He like the metallic scent better.

He stepped aside to let him in, and as he stepped through the doorway, Ethari lifted a wide basket he was carrying. "I've brought you a few things," he said as he crossed over to the table.

"Oh?" Runaan closed the door and cast a mild look at Ethari. "Did you think I would be unable to provide for the occasion myself?"

Ethari paused as he set the basket on the table, a startled look flickering over his features. "What? No, I––"

"I'm joking, Ethari." Runaan walked over to him, tilting his head curiously to look into the basket. "What did you bring?"

"First off..." Ethari lifted something round and flat from the basket and withdrew the fabric wrapped around it with a flourish. "Moonberry surprise!" he announced triumphantly. "For later, if you're interested. I didn't make it," he added quickly. "I'm not so good at baking." He set the pan of deep purple moonberry surprise on the table, then reached into the basket again. "And, uh. This." He cleared his throat and handed something over to Runaan. It was a single flower planted in a turquoise pot. The flower was large, with long pointed petals of pristine white crowning a soft pink center. "I know you said you don't like flowers," Ethari said as Runaan accepted it, "but I asked Niran––they run the garden behind the meeting house––and they said that this lotus is entirely beneficial. It can be used for medicines, tea, food, incense...all sorts of things. So. You know. Beautiful _and_ useful."

He looked nervous. Runaan rotated the pot slowly between his palms to admire it. He still didn't care much for flowers, but Ethari had obviously put thought into the gift. He appreciated it.

"And you left it in a pot so it can continue to grow," Runaan said aloud. "Thank you, Ethari. It will make a good centerpiece." He turned to place it in the center of the table. Behind him, Ethari let out a relieved sigh, then a soft chuckle.

"Well, I did bring a backup gift," he admitted. "Here."

He shoved something else into Runaan's hands as he turned. Startled, Runaan closed his fingers around it automatically, then lifted the item to see what it was.

It was a potato.

"What in Xadia..." Runaan turned it over in confusion. It was dark purple, lumpy and knotted and pitted, with tiny roots protruding like fungus over parts of its misshapen surface.

"Extra ugly," Ethari said. "Just how you like it."

Runaan stared at the potato. His lips twitched, and he couldn't quite suppress he laugh that fought its way up his throat. He quickly clamped his mouth shut to smother it, and lifted his fingers to his lips for a moment to hide his grin. "Moon have mercy," he murmured as he slid off the silk ribbon that had been tied around it. "It's hideous."

Ethari offered a sweeping bow and a conspiratorial wink. "You're welcome." He straightened and wandered over to the counter. His brows rose as he looked over everything laid atop it, and a faintly impressed smile warmed his lips. "Is this supper?" he asked. "Can I help?"

"Certainly." Runaan joined him and gestured to the vegetables. "Dice these. And this." He set the potato amidst them. "Toss them into the rack on the pot of water when they're ready, and put on the lid." Ethari nodded and picked up the knife. As he started to slice the vegetables into neat squares, Runaan pulled the dough out of the bowl and began to roll it out, watching Ethari curiously out of the corner of his eye all the while.

_He works well with knives,_ he noted with approval. _Quick, clean cuts. Very precise. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. He works with blades on a regular basis._ His gaze drifted idly along Ethari's arms. Ethari was wearing a tunic with short sleeves, allowing Runaan to see the ripple of muscles beneath his dark skin. Most elves tended to have leaner frames, Runaan included. Ethari, however, was broad and solid. A warrior's build. Why had he not become a fighter?

Ethari finished the first batch of vegetables and used the edge of the knife to scrape them into a pile before continuing with the rest. Runaan laid his roller aside and reached over to collect the circular cutter he had set aside earlier. As he drew closer to Ethari, he caught a whiff of that unusual scent again. Something airy and floral and... _wrong._ Runaan scowled.

"Ethari, what are you wearing?"

Ethari looked up, his eyes wide as the knife froze mid-cut. Seeing the disapproval on Runaan's face, he leaned back to look down the length of his torso in confusion. "What, this? Is it too casual? I thought about dressing nicer, but I didn't think––"

"Not your clothes," Runaan interrupted. "That smell. What is it?"

"Oh." Ethari set the knife down and plucked a small purple pouch from his belt. "It's this. Dried flower petals and sweet spices. I rubbed them over my clothes before I got here and stuffed a few in my pockets so I'd smell good."

"You already smelled good," Runaan complained. "Get rid of those." He stepped around Ethari to pull a pot out of the cabinet beneath the counter. "In here," he said as he held it out to Ethari. "All of them." Ethari stared at him. Slowly, he dropped the packet into the pot, then withdrew three others he had tucked into his clothing. As he tossed them all in the pot, a grin curled across his face, and Runaan scowled again. "What are you smirking at?"

Ethari shrugged. "Not many people appreciate the smell of the forge."

"I don't see why not. Metal, earth, wood, soot––it's the scent of hard work and a dedication to your craft. It's honest. This..." Runaan's nose wrinkled as he glanced into the pot, and he shoved it pointedly into Ethari's hands. "Put it outside."

Ethari huffed out a soft laugh, but accepted the pot. As he left to set it outside of the door, Runaan returned to cutting out circles from the dough he had rolled out, and when Ethari came back, it was to fold his arms upon the counter and lean against it. "I think that's a new record for me," he mused as Runaan worked. "I made it almost a full minute before offending you."

"I don't find it offensive," Runaan replied sharply. "It's––" He stopped and replayed the moment in his mind. _Give him a chance,_ he reminded himself. _Not everything needs to be a battle._ "I...apologize," he said more calmly. "It wasn't my internet to criticize you again."

Ethari shrugged. "I got a compliment out of it," he said. "I'll take what I can get." He picked up the knife to start cutting again, then paused to furrow his brow at the already large pile before him. He glanced at the rest of the food on the counter, then cast a confused look at Runaan. "You really think we're going to eat this much?"

"I hope not." Runaan picked up one of the circles and scooped into it a small portion of the mixture he had made earlier. "I make large batches of food so I can eat it throughout the week," he explained as he started to fold the edges of the dough around it. "It saves time on cooking."

Ethari gave him a dubious look. "So you just eat the same thing every day?"

"You say that as though you disapprove."

Ethari looked down at the row of dough circles and made a face. "I guess I like variety in life." He picked up one of the circles as Runaan did the same. "What are we making?"

"Dumplings." Runaan held his hand closer to Ethari so he could see how to make one. "We'll have them with steamed vegetables, rice, and bread. The extra portions will go in the preservation box." He lifted his chin to indicate a wooden box on the other end of the counter. Dropping his half-made dumpling to the cutting board, Ethari walked over to open it, then jerked his head back in surprise as a cold puff of frosty air wafted out.

"That's a nice enchantment," he said.

"I brought it with me from Moonshire."

"Ah. Ethari closed the box and returned to the cutting board to gather a handful of vegetables. As he walked over to the hearth, Runaan rolled his eyes and picked up the forgotten dumpling to finish it. Ethari didn't even notice. He dropped the vegetables into the steaming basket hooked over the boiling water, set the lid atop it, and bent to lift the cloth from the basket of bread to see what was inside. "Do you miss Moonshire?" he asked as he straightened.

Runaan hummed indecisively. "That atmosphere appealed to me," he said. "But I did not belong there."

Ethari returned to the counter to lean again it. "Do you belong here, then?" he asked.

"I belong where I am needed." Runaan dropped the dumpling into the waiting bowl and started another. "Silvergrove doesn't need me, yet," he added wistfully. "But it will. This close to the boarder, my skills will be put to good use." He made a shooing motion at Ethari and pointed out the pile of vegetable still waiting to be cooked. "Don't forget the rest, Ethari. Focus."

"Oh. Right." Ethari turned to grab the rest of the diced vegetables and added them to the pot. When he came back, he started making another dumpling. For several seconds, they worked in silence, until Ethari looked up curiously. "So...do you enjoy being an assassin?" he asked.

Runaan shot a quick look at him. "What kind of question is that?" he snapped.

Ethari flinched and looked down to fiddle with the dumpling he was trying to make. "Just asking," he mumbled.

The dumping he was working on was lopsided, the edges not quite meeting. Sighing, Runaan set his down and reached over to pinch the edges of one corner to correct him. "Taking the life of another person isn't something to be enjoyed," he said. "It's something to be honored. Respected. _Mourned._ Each of us has a set lifespan, Ethari. To cut one short...to take pleasure in doing so..." He trailed off, his expression darkening. "That would make us no better than humans."

Ethari nodded, still avoiding eye contact. He was closing the dough correctly, now. Nodding in approval, Runaan pulled away to return to his own. Again, a silence fell between them. If felt different this time, though. Runaan frowned and chanced another look towards Ethari. He was working diligently on the dumplings, but he wasn't smiling anymore. _Damn it,_ Runaan thought. _He's upset again. What have I done_ this _time?_

"You, uh...learn quickly," he offered stiffly.

Ethari nodded and turned the dumpling over a few times to inspect it before dropping it into the bowl. "It's just a different type of craft," he said. "Takes a few tries, but the more you do it, the better you get."

The corner of Runaan's lips tugged upwards. "That's a good attitude. Too many people give up on things that seem difficult."

Ethari suddenly burst into a laugh that nearly sent the dumpling Runaan was making flying to the floor. "You're not joking!" he explained as Runaan caught himself. "If I'd have given up on you, we wouldn't be standing here!"

Runaan offered a thin smile. He didn't see what was so funny about the comment. "Yes, well..." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I understand you enjoy many different types of crafts," he said in an effort to change the subject. "Blacksmithing, of course. Woodworking. Enchanting. What else?"

"I like things that move." Ethari grinned as he tossed another dumpling into the bowl. "It's a new thing I've been working on. Toys with articulated joints and wee little gears, and strings you can pull to make them spin. I think I can get rid of the strings if I––"

A sharp knock on the door interrupted him. They both looked up in surprise, and Runaan grabbed a towel to clean his hands before walking to the door to answer it. Outside, a messenger stood at stiff attention. She nodded curtly and held out a sealed scroll.

"Message from Mora," she said simply.

Runaan accepted the scroll and inclined his head in polite acknowledgement. "Thank you."

The messenger nodded and started back down the steps. As Runaan closed the door, Ethari stared at the scroll curiously. "What's that?" he asked.

Runaan snapped open the wax seal and unfurled the scroll. "Feedback from my last assignment," he said after a moment. "An Earthblood scout invaded our territory without approval several days ago. I was sent to track her down and uncover her intentions."

Ethari's brows drew together. He dropped the last dumpling into the bowl and wandered over. "They sent an assassin to ask a scout why she's walking through the woods?"

Runaan snorted and rolled up the scroll. "Being an assassin is more than just giving me something pointy and telling me to stick it in someone," he said as he returned to the hearth to set up a pan for the dumplings. "I tracked her to ascertain her intended destination, to see if she would turn around of her own volition, and to monitor for other scouts in the area. When it became apparent that she was continuing towards our settlement alone, I subdued her without her even knowing I was there in order to ensure that she would know nothing of who attacked her. Once she was unconscious, I searched through her clothing and gear in search of information that might reveal more about her purpose. That information led me to a cave wherein three humans were hiding."

"Humans?" Eyes wide, Ethari followed Runaan from the hearth to the counter. "How did they get past the Sunfire Elves? Or the Dragon King?"

"Dumb luck, most likely." Runaan's lips curled. "Humans tend to have unorthodox ideas. That's what makes them so dangerous." He took the bowl of dumplings and tossed them into the pan to begin frying them. As they hissed and popped, he walked back to the counter to begin cleaning in. Ethari belatedly helped him, though he was still watching Runaan avidly.

"What were they doing in the cave?" he asked. "Were they living there? Were their more humans nearby?"

Runaan couldn't help but to smile at Ethari's curiosity. "After going through their belongings, I found a great deal of Xadian supplies," he replied. "Plants, insects, animal parts. They were harvesting magical reagents––most likely for a filthy human mage to practice dark magic."

"Mages." A look of worry dawned on Ethari's face. "What did you do?"

Runaan ran the corner of the towel along the edge of the knife. "I did my job."

Ethari stared at him. "You killed them," he translated softly.

Runaan finished cleaning the knife and put it away. "All three. There were five bed rolls in their camp, however. I searched thoroughly for more humans, but there were none in sight. I assume something ate them. Good riddance."

"You did all this alone, then?"

Runaan put the bowl away, then exchanged the towel for a fresh one before working on the cutting board. "No, actually," he admitted. "I was given the option to complete the objective as an individual, but I requested that two other assassins be sent with me. My mentor approves of my decision, apparently. Mora says she knows that I prefer to work alone, and was pleased that I chose not to." He set down the towel to unfurl the scroll again. "'It is a mark of leadership to know when to be independent," he read aloud, "and when to depend on the skills of our allies.'"

Ethari chuckled as he picked up the towel to start wiping down the surface of the countertop. "Is that her way of saying she's happy you're finally working well with others?"

Runaan frowned. He didn't care for the mocking note in Ethari's voice. "Contrary to popular belief," he retorted, "I'm not some sort of socially inept hermit incapable sharing my responsibilities."

"Hmm, true," came the playful response. "I'd say you're more of a socially inept hermit incapable of making friends."

"I have plenty of friends!"

"Name five." Ethari grinned and waited. Runaan was silent for a moment, then turned his back to check on the rice. Slowly, Ethari's smile faded. "Sorry," he said softly. "I shouldn't––"

"Friendship is overrated." Runaan straightened to turn over the dumplings. "I get along with people. I work with them and aid them in completing common goals. I contribute to Silvergrove's community and ask for nothing unreasonable in return. Beyond that, what's the point? Must I host tea parties? Go visiting with gifts at the ready? Skip down the street laughing and declaring my love for gossip?"

"That would be terrifying. Don't ever do that."

The flat response was enough to cut through Runaan's annoyance. He chuckled, lifted his hand for a moment to hide his smile, then moved away from the hearth to collect two serving bowls. "Then we're in agreement," he replied. "Have a seat. I'll bring your bowl over."

Ethari obligingly moved to the table to sit down. Runaan filled two bowls, doused the fires, and brought them to the table. As he sat down, he glanced to the floor. Ethari had set his basket beside his chair. Inside, Runaan could see one item left that Ethari hadn't taken out.

"Isn't that your sketchbook?" he asked.

Ethari glanced down, and his cheeks darkened slightly. "Did...you want to look at it?" he asked hesitantly. "I was planning on showing you a design for a new bow when I got here, but then I thought you might think I was trying to show off, so..."

"I'd like to see it. Bring it to the table, please." Runaan moved his bowl aside to make room as Ethari set the leather-bound book next to him.

"Here." Ethari opened the cover and flipped to one of the pages near the back. As he rotated it, Runaan leaned closer to see the image. It was a particularly ornate longbow, the ends sweeping out into a graceful curve to resemble swords blades.

"This is...different," he said.

"Very different. Because it's not just a bow." More confident, now, Ethari flipped to the next page. This one had the bow broken down to its component parts. Runaan's eyes widened, and he took the sketch book away to hold it closer.

"Swords," he murmured.

"Exactly." Ethari grabbed the seat of his chair and scooted around the perimeter of the table to sit next to him. "Remember how you told me that you don't like being weighed down when you're on a mission? I kept thinking about how I could fix that. You duel-wield one-handed blades, so it probably takes a few extra seconds to switch to a bow. If you're fighting someone, those few seconds could put you at risk. So then I wondered if there was a way to combine the swords with a bow. Less weight, better function. Look here." Ethari reached over to flip another page to show a close up of the sword handles. "The hilts lock together at the bottom, creating the arch of the bow itself. A pressure release toggle on one of them––" he pointed, "––would be all you'd need to detach them back to swords!"

Runaan studied the design avidly. He flipped back to the first page, then the second, then looked to see if there was a fourth page. There was, though the hasty scribblings beside the detailed locking mechanism made little sense to him. "How would the bowstring be attached?" he asked as he returned to the first page. "It looks like you've got it coming straight out of the sword tips, but––"

"An enchantment." Ethari grabbed the sketchbook and turned the page to show off a series of runes in mid-design. "I'll have to compose a new set of runes to make it work, but if I bind them into the handles, I could make it so the enchantment activates immediately upon the handles interlocking. The enchantment would generate a magical bowstring that tethers to the points of the sword. Pressing the toggle to unhook the blades would deactivate it. I wouldn't be able to make the swords fold up like the ones you have now, though. It would create weak points while drawing the string back." Ethari stared at Runaan expectantly, his breath held tight. "So," he said after several seconds. "What do you think?"

Runaan rubbed his chin slowly. A weapon like this would be indispensable during a solo mission––or even during a particularly strenuous group mission. _If it worked._ What if the locking mechanism were to fail as he drew an arrow? The backlash of the weapon would slow him significantly, perhaps even injur him. He let out a sigh as he ran through the potential scenarios in his mind, but nodded his approval of the idea. "It's clever," he said aloud. "Remarkable, actually. I'm impressed." Ethari broke into a wide grin. He started to pull the sketchbook away, and Runaan clapped a hand over it to stop him. "I'd like to see your other designs," he said. "And I'd like to make a suggestion about this one."

Ethari released the sketchbook and nodded eagerly. "Yeah!" he agreed. "Sure!"

With the sketchbook open upon the table, the two of them bent over it to look through designs and exchange ideas between distracted bites of food. Runaan spoke calmly, seriously, his questions straight and to the point. Ethari, by contrast, spoke quickly, excitedly, rambling his way from one tangent to another as each question sparked several new ideas––enough that Runaan finally left to retrieved a piece of charcoal for Ethari to record his thoughts.

Ethari was delighted.

This was exactly what he had been hoping for: the chance to show Runaan that he could be interesting, that he could be smart and talented and worth spending time with. He loved his craft, and loved sharing it––and loved that Runaan was actually curious to know more. Ethari hadn't been to certain of the date, at first. Runaan hadn't been asking Ethari anything of himself, and had seemed more interested in cooking than talking. But now...

Ethari glanced at Runaan. The long tails of white hair that hung before his ears swayed slightly as Runaan studied the sketchbook and silently mouthed the notes Ethari had scribbled in the margins. The faint glow emanating from the lotus flower Ethari had brought cast a gentle light upon Runaan's face, softening his features and making his markings stand out.

_Moon above, he has such a cute nose..._

Ethari smiled and forced himself to look back at the design for a collapsible spear they had been discussing. Runaan may have been taciturn, but he was also earnest _. Honest._ He spoke from the heart, and even the most biting criticism he offered carried with it the expectation for improvement.

_Confidence comes from taking pride in your accomplishments,_ Ethari reminded himself. _I don't need the admiration of anyone else to know how skilled I am. Those were your words, Runaan. Even in the midst of accusing me of being an attention seeking showoff, you were trying to give me advice. How many people have you driven away, because they couldn't see past your insults? Well, you're not going to drive_ me _off. I see who you are, now._

Ethari leaned back as Runaan finally closed the sketchbook. Their bowls were long since empty, the basket of bread reduced to crumbs and their cups drained dry. As Ethari tucked the book back into his basket, Runaan stood to begin clearing the table. "Wait," Ethari said, and stood quickly to collect the cups. "Let me help."

"Thank you, Ethari."

Runaan's voice was soft, now, carrying none of its usual bite. He seemed more relaxed. More thoughtful. Ethari watched him as they both cleaned up, and he smiled at the realization that the change was an indication that Runaan had let his guard down. Was that all it took? A couple of hours worth of discussing the best way to hone a blade for optimal stabbing momentum?

Ethari bit back a chuckle and stepped aside to watch Runaan transfer the leftover food into the preservation box. "Hey, Runaan," he said after a few moments of consideration. "I need to apologize."

"Again?" Runaan glanced over his shoulder, his brow arching in mild amusement. "What for this time?"

"For tonight. Back at the smithy." Ethari leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. "I lost my temper a little," he admitted. "I hope you didn't feel pressured to invite me over."

"I did, actually." The response was blunt, but there was no accusation in it. Runaan put the last of the food in the container and sealed it before turning. "But I'm glad it happened," he continued. "I've enjoyed our time together."

"Yeah. Me, too." Ethari smiled, and though Runaan didn't outright return it, there was the ghost of a smile hovering faintly at the corner of his lips. Runaan turned away before Ethari could be certain, and pulled out a large basin for dishwashing. As he poured water into it, Ethari eased closer, his heart beating faster as he mentally urged himself to take a chance. "You know," he murmured suggestively, "if you were to invite me upstairs, I wouldn't say no."

"Why would you want to go upstairs?"

Ethari stared at him blankly. "For..." He trailed off. Runaan hadn't even bothered to turn around. He was adding soap to the water, pointedly ignoring the proposition. Ethari's chest clenched, and his cheeks grew hot in embarrassment. "To make use of your facilities," he amended flatly.

Runaan chuckled. "You don't need an invitation for that," he said as he started placing the cups into the basin. "Just go ahead. You know where it is."

Ethari pushed away from the counter without a word and made his way quickly up the curving steps to the next level. Keeping his face turned to avoid looking at the bed, he crossed into the washroom. There, he braced his palms to either side of the washbasin and hung his head over it as he drew in several deep breaths.

"I'm an idiot," he muttered. He scrunched his eyes shut and grimaced. Everything had been going well. Runaan had finally seemed to like him. What had gone wrong? Had Runaan not understood?

Ethari let out a rueful laugh. Even Runaan wasn't that dense.

"At least he let me save face," he sighed as he straightened to look at his reflection in the mirror. "He could have flat out rejected me. He let me back out of the proposition instead. That's...something."

His reflection stared back at him in disappointment. Ethari lifted a hand to trace to curve of one horn, then combed his fingers through his hair and looked down at his clothes. He didn't look dirty or disheveled. And he'd gotten rid of the scent packets Runaan had hated. Physically, there was nothing wrong with him.

Runaan just wasn't interested.

Ethari took another breath, then let it out slowly. _I guess that answers that question,_ he thought unhappily. _He just wants to be friends. Damn. I really thought there was something between us._ Ethari rubbed his face, then stepped away from the basin. "Well, better to find out sooner than later," he said aloud. "At the very least, I've made a new friend. I can't complain about that."

Ethari splashed some water on his face, then left the washroom to return to the main level. Runaan was still washing dishes, though he was on the last one. Ethari waited patiently for him to finish, and handed him a towel to dry his hands. "I guess I should head home," he said as Runaan accepted it. "Thank you for the meal, Runaan. I'm glad we had the chance to learn more about each other."

"It was an unexpected pleasure." Runaan folded the towel and set it aside, and moved away to retrieve Ethari's basket. "I would enjoy discussing your projects with you in the future," he said as he set it on the counter. "You have fascinating ideas."

"Yeah..." It was hard to keep his lips upturned in a smile. Ethari clenched his jaw and swallowed, reminding himself that the night had still been a success. He and Runaan were getting along, now. This was the start of a new relationship.

So why did the moment seem so final?

Ethari sighed and started to reach for his basket, then paused and held his hand out to Runaan instead. "Before I go," he said, "give me your arm."

A flicker of suspicion crossed over Runaan's face. "Why?"

"For closure." Ethari forced himself to grin. "We never finished our dance."

Runaan brows rose. Slowly, he lifted his arm to the final position of the dance they had shared the night before. As they gripped each other's forearms, they locked eyes.

_You're so beautiful, Runaan. And I don't think you even know it._

Their hands slid down their upper arms, then trailed over the elbows to begin their decent down their forearms. As their hands neared their wrists, Ethari tightened his grip slightly. Runaan seemed to understand, and didn't resist as Ethari took hold of his fingers and gently turned them. He bowed to brush his lips along Runaan's knuckles, and as he straightened, offered a thin smile of regret.

"Goodnight, Runaan. I'm honored to count you as a friend."

"You as well."

Ethari released him, collected his basket, and left. As the door closed silently behind him, Runaan let out a deep breath.

"Well," he murmured to himself. "That went well."

He turned to survey the room critically, and crossed to the table to take the second chair back to its usual place by the door. As he set his travel bag upon it again, he brushed his hair back and sighed.

The house seemed so empty, now.

Runaan looked around, confused for a moment. He didn't typically mind the silence. He preferred it, actually. But now...it seemed almost oppressive. The echoes of Ethari's voice filtered through his mind, and the memory of his laughter seemed to make the air warmer. A faint smile tugged at Runaan's lips as he returned to the counter to start putting the dishes away. He had fully expected the date to be another disaster, one that would surely devolve into yet another argument. The fact that it had gone so well had been... _refreshing._ And the conversation! Runaan bit his lip as his mind danced with the designs of potential weapon creations. He'd had no idea Ethari was so skilled! Faleth had been right; Ethari might actually have surpassed his mentor.

Runaan stacked the two bowls and lifted them towards the cupboard as he tried to visualize what the completed pieces would looked like. They would no doubt take a great deal of time and skill to complete. It was all too easy to imagine Ethari standing over an anvil, one hand holding a blade steady while the other rose above his head again and again to pound a hammer upon the glowing steal. The soft red light of the forge warming his skin, sparks spraying in every direction, a sheen of sweat upon his brow as his muscles bulged––

Runaan dropped the bowls.

As the two polished pieces of wood cracked against the floor and rolled away, Runaan stared at them in shock.

_Oh, shit. Lain was right._

Runaan pressed a hand to his mouth. He backed away from the bowls and quickly moved to the table to sit down. That couldn't be right. Runaan and Ethari had just enjoyed a good meal and fine conversation. It meant nothing. There was no reason to jump to conclusions. Runaan could hardly be faulted to imagining a blacksmith hammering a sword after having spent a solid two hours discussing that very scenario with an actual blacksmith. It was only natural to envision Ethari at work!

The mental image flickered through Runaan's mind again.

This time, Ethari was shirtless.

Runaan stood from the chair quickly, nearly knocking it backwards as he pushed himself away from the table. _No._ He would _not_ accept this. It was just a moment's fancy––his imagination running away from him. Lain and Tiadrin had just gotten into his head with all their damn talk about how great Ethari was.

_Is._

_...Damn!_

Runaan strode back to the bowls, snatched them from the floor, and flung them back into the basin to wash again. _Fine._ So he found Ethari attractive. There were plenty of attractive people in Silvergrove. The only difference was that Ethari was so damn friendly. No wonder he was on Runaan's mind. Ethari's natural openness and warmth made it easy to like him. Easy to get infatuated with him. And that's all it was: a simple infatuation that would pass once Runaan grew use to Ethari's personality.

_Damn him for being so amiable,_ Runaan thought angrily as he scrubbed at the bowls. _Walking around being nice to people, giving them gifts, flexing his muscles and smiling like he's got a secret to share... How many other people does he do this to? Surely I can't be the only one. He must have scores of admirers vying for his attention!_

_Yet he chose me._

Runaan lowered the bowl back into the water as the anger dissipated. Silvergrove was a lot different from Moonshire, but the rules of courtship seemed to be consistent. One did not offer to date someone if they were already pursuing a relationship with someone else. That meant Runaan had the entirety of Ethari's interest.

_So I can either reject it and lose it forever, or I can accept it and turn our relationship into something meaningful._

Runaan pressed his lips thin. He quickly dried off his hands and walked into his weapons room. Beneath the table, he kept a meditation pillow stored away. Seizing it, he dragged it out and carried it to the main room the set up in the middle of the floor. As he sat upon it, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breathes to center himself. This was no time to let his emotions get the best of him. He needed to think critically about the situation he was in and come to a reasonable, logical solution.

Another deep breath. Runaan let his mind clear and focused instead upon his senses alone.

_Something I hear. The creak of branches above me. Something I taste. The sweet aftertaste of yams. Something I feel. The lingering warmth of the hearth. Something I smell. Fried dumplings and flower petals. Something I see..._

The image of Ethari again rose to mind. This time, Runaan forced himself to study him, taking in every detail. The easy smile, the twinkling eyes, the broad shoulders and elegant markings curling over Ethari's skin. He could hear Ethari's laughter. Feel his fingers closing over his own. Smell the metallic scent clinging to his clothing. Unprompted, Runaan's mind offered a suggestion of taste: soft lips pressed against his, and the gentle prodding of a tongue Runaan was all too willing to accept.

He opened his eyes.

With a sense of utter calm, Runaan lifted a finger to his lips to chase after the phantom sensation and looked around the room again. He could easily envision Ethari walking out of the stairwell calling a basket of laundry. He could see him standing beside the hearth checking on a cooking meal, or sitting at the table tinkering with some manner of work, or walking through the door with a bright grin and an eagerness to share news of his night's exploits.

_I can see myself living with him. Is that what I want?_

New images. Ethari laying in bed, offering a sleepy smile upon waking. The taste of his skin and the scent of his passion. The sound of his voice, barely a whisper as he breathed against Runaan's ear and wrapped those strong arms around him.

_Yes. I want that._

Runaan released his breath.

Quietly, he stood and put the meditation pillow away, then finished cleaning up the dishes. Once the room had been set back to rights, Runaan hesitated. He didn't know what to do, now. Sleep? Train? Plan? Perhaps a walk to help put his decision into a better perspective?

Runaan looked down at his hand. He traced his fingers over his knuckles, and recalled Ethari's kiss. _The courtship process involves a continuous back and forth between potential lovers,_ he thought distractedly. _Ethari indicated his interest. I reciprocated with the invitation. Now I have to wait until he makes the next move._

Runaan couldn't keep himself from smiling as an anticipatory lightness overtook him. _I wonder what it will be? A gift? A gesture? Another date? I'm not going to misinterpret his intentions, this time. Whatever sign he gives me, I'll be sure to recognize it and respond accordingly._

Nodding to himself, Runaan turned around and started up the stairs.

It had been a long time since he had last felt this good.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Runaan believed himself to be a patient man.

He had to be, as an assassin. Countless hours could be spent simply lying in wait, watching and listening and studying before making a move. Acting rashly resulted in mistakes––and Runaan hated making mistakes.

But even he had his limits.

When five nights passed without so much as a note from Ethari, Runaan had enough. One did not share a pleasant date with someone, and then treat him like a ghost. It was unacceptable. There were _rules._

At least, there should have been.

Runaan stewed silently about it as he went about his daily tasks. Was this Ethari's way of teasing him, by making him wait and wonder and worry? Did he think this was a game? Or did he somehow misunderstand that it was his turn to make a move?

_That must be it,_ Runaan decided. _He's been waiting for me this entire time. I suppose he thought that kissing my hand was enough of a reciprocation. Honestly, Ethari. You'll have to do better than that._

He paced the confines of the sparring pavillian, thumping the hilt of his dagger absently against the palm of his hand as he considered his options. Around him, fighters of all kinds filtered in and out of the room seeking supplies to hone their weapons, or to mend their armor, or to seek out sparring partners. Runaan himself had just spent a cheerful hour practicing evasion with a pair of hunters. It was the middle of the night: the peak time for activity in Silvergrove. Ethari would no doubt be at the smithy at this hour.

Perhaps it was time to pay him a visit.

Runaan strode out of the sparring house and headed up the long road that wound its way up the side of the mountain. The vibrant decorations of the festival had long since been taken down, and the citizens of Silvergrove had settled back into their usual routine. As Runaan passed through the market, he looked over the various shops and craftsmen will a feeling of protective pride. These were his people, he reminded himself. They had names. Families. Ambitions.

_Ethari implied that I have no friends. He has a point. I haven't made an effort thus far to get to know the people I'm meant to protect. I'll need to change that._

Runaan's steps slowed, and he made a point of exchanging nods with people who made eye contact. He paused beside quiet stalls to exchange simple greetings and to appreciate the wares on display. There were a few faces he recognized: the gardener who grew the vegetables he ate; the hunter who provided him with leather for patching his armor; the book binder who had fixed the tome of druidic rituals Runaan had accidentally torn. He had never bothered to learn their names.

Runaan took the time to thank them each, and to glean information about their lives for future reference. As he passed a toymaker's stall, he paused to look over the offerings. Rayla was crawling around with more energy, of late. Runaan had seen the way she grabbed at the edges of tables as though trying to haul herself up. She would need things to occupy her hands, soon.

"Good evening," the toymaker said as Runaan considered the wooden toys. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"I seek a gift for a child near to walking."

The toymaker, and old woman with white hair braided and wound around the crown of her head, hummed thoughtfully as her eyes skipped along the possibilities in font of her. "Here," she said as she picked up a stack of brightly colored blocks. "These might suit the little dear. Children that age love bold colors. These can be stacked, knocked over, clapped for noise, and even chewed. The color comes from root dyes, and the they're made of fibers from the kolo tree. Completely safe."

Runaan accepted the blocks and looked them over. The edges had been carefully rounded, he noted with approval. He wouldn't have to worry about Rayla accidentally stabbing someone in the eye as she waved it about. "I'll take them," he agreed. "Thank you." He started to move away, then stepped back to look at the woman directly. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Thaeda." The toymaker smiled. "And you're Runaan, aren't you?" Runaan's brows rose in surprise, and an impish expression warmed Thaeda's face. "I've seen you lurking around for the better part of the year. Mora's protégé, aren't you? I hear she's been very impressed with your work."

Taken aback by the recognition, Runaan nodded. "I...would hope so," he replied. "Thank you, Thaeda. I'm sure Rayla will enjoy these."

"Rayla?" Thaeda brightened at the name. "Lain and Tiadrin's daughter? Oh, she's going to love hitting things with those! A late bloomer, that girl, but mark my words, she's going to be a feisty one. I wouldn't be at all surprised to find her picking up a sword, one day."

Runaan's lips twitched as he imagined Rayla running around wielding a wooden practice word. "We can always use good fighters," he agreed. Once more, he started to move away, only to pause again as a particular item caught his attention. "What's that?" Runaan pointed, and Thaeda twisted in her seat to look at a half carved piece that resembled the petals of a lotus flower.

"Hmm? This?" She picked it up and set it on the table in front of her. "Oh, just a little project I'm working on. It's not really a toy, but I find the challenge engaging. Do you like it?"

"No," came the blunt reply, "but I know someone who would. May I impose upon you to make another? About this size?" Runaan held his palms apart, and Thaeda waved a hand dismissively.

"Oh, not a problem at all," she laughed, and a glint of acquisitiveness sparked in her eyes. "Perhaps you could do me a favor in kind," she added. "I'm running low on wood from the speckled fire maple, and I'm growing too old to go hunting for fallen branches. You go into the forest quite often. If you happen to see any––"

"I'll bring it to you," Runaan agreed. "A fair trade, Thaeda. Thank you."

"And you."

Thaeda tied the blocks up with a few pieces of string, and Runaan carried them off with a feeling of accomplishment. This was how things were meant to be in a small community. Friends and favors, conversations and kindness. It was easy to forget such things when one was focused entirely on training.

"Socially inept hermit," Runaan muttered under his breath as he continued up to the smithy. "I'll prove Ethari wrong. He'll see that I can be just as personable as anyone else."

The familiar arches dawned over the curve of the road as Runaan neared it. He paused beside a grouping of boulders to tie the blocks to his belt, took a moment to straighten his hair, and threw his shoulders back before continuing onward. At the arches, he hesitated, then leaned around the corner to assess the interior. If Faleth was around, Runaan would need to be careful of how he acted. Rumors spread quickly in Silvergrove. He didn't want his business to become _everyone's_ business.

Faleth was not at his usual place beside the forge.

Ethari, however, was.

Runaan eased back a little, not wanting Ethari to see him quite yet. Ethari had what looked to be a partially finished blade thrust into the embers of the forge. With his hand protected with a thick leather glove, he turned the blade over, then slid it out to shift it onto the nearby anvil. Without hesitation, he raised a massive flat hammer and slammed it atop the glowing steel. Sparks of light flew outwards at the impact, barely having time to dim before Ethari slammed the hammer down again.

Runaan stared, his mouth instantly growing dry as the image he had conjured in his mind several times since the date was suddenly realized before him. Ethari's arms were bare, his skin glistening with a sheen of sweat and streaks of grime. Ethari pounded the blade a few more times, thrust it back into the forge, and took a moment to run the back of his wrist across his forehead. As he turned, Runaan could see a glimpse of his midriff from behind the heavy work apron he wore. Had Ethari always worn such shirts? How had Runaan not noticed before?

Ethari set the hammer down and started cranking a clamp attached to the anvil. A few moments later, he took the sword out again for another hammerings, then lowered it into a troth of water. Steam hissed out around the heated metal, clouding the air and filling it with a fresh scent of metal. As Ethari lifted it to position the blade into the clamp, Runaan took a deep breath and forced himself to step out from behind the arch. Ethari looked up immediately, and his lips curved into a faintly confused smile.

"Runaan," he greeted. "What can I do for you?"

_You can proceed to the next step of courtship._

The answer flitted through Runaan's mind, and he was quick to swallow it back. He didn't want to be too forward. Courtship was an elegant dance of exchanges. Ethari just needed a little prompting and the proper opening to continue what they had already begun.

_I need an excuse,_ he realized suddenly. _I can't just show up and demand attention!_

He thought quickly, and whisked his dagger from his belt. "I came to have a blade sharpened," he said.

With a soft hum of interest, Ethari stepped out from behind the anvil and took off his glove to accept it. "Easy enough," he said as he crossed over to a grinding stone. "Do you need a new whetstone?"

"No. I was just in the area, so..." Runaan trailed off as Ethari sat down, and Ethari chuckled.

"Got it. Just give me a few minutes." He pumped the pedal to get the wheel spinning. As he set the edge of the dagger against the grinding stone, Runaan wandered closer, careful to stand out of the way of the sparks dancing from the stone as he waited for Ethari to initiate conversation. When Ethari only paused to check the blade and flipped it over to grind the other side, Runaan ventured closer.

"Thank you again for joining me a few nights ago," he said.

Ethari grinned and glanced up. "I should be thanking you," he replied. "I didn't expect you to cook so well."

"I have all manner of hidden talents."

Runaan arched his brows and offered what he hoped was a coy smile, trying to convey as much meaning into the words as possible. Ethari only nodded and stood from the wheel.

"All set. How's that look?"

Runaan took the dagger and pretended to scrutinize it. "Yes, well done," he murmured.

Ethari started to walk away. Runaan quickly jammed the dagger back into its sheath and trailed after him. "There are a pair of sisters who play complex lute compositions," he said. "I've heard they intend to put on a recital tomorrow. Would you care to join me?"

"I'm babysitting Rayla, actually," Ethari said as he pulled his glove back on. "Tiadrin and Lain wanted to have a quiet night together."

"Ah." Runaan pressed his lips thin in dismay and tried again. "Tiadrin mentioned that Rayla has started teething. She might be a handful. Perhaps I could give you assistance."

The offer earned a light laugh. "I think I can handle a wee babe on my own," Ethari said as he selected a file. "Thanks for offering, though." He slanted the file against the blade waiting in the clamp and began to sharpen its edges. Runaan stood awkwardly to the side, unsure of what to say next.

"Well," he finally said, "if you change your mind, let me know."

"You'll be the first person I ask," Ethari promised.

There seemed to be no point in continuing the conversation. Perplexed, Runaan left the smithy and walked partway down the road, chewing his lower lip in consternation. This was not what he had expected. Was Ethari playing some sort of game? He hadn't seemed like the sort of person to act coy over courtship. Then again, he did have a somewhat playful side, based on Runaan's previous interactions with him. Maybe he wanted Runaan to try harder.

_Hmm._

Runaan pulled his dagger back out and gave it a closer look. No flowers or runes, this time. _Of course not,_ he chided himself. Ethari wouldn't have had time. And even if he had, he wasn't going to do it with Runaan standing right there. Ethari hadn't even pointed them out, last time. He had waited for Runaan to figure things out himself.

_You'd think he'd have realized by now that that's not the best approach with me._

Runaan slowed to a halt and tucked the dagger away as he considered his options. So Ethari wanted to play games, did he? Very well. Runaan would play along.

He unhooked his sword from his belt and unfolded it. With a quickly glance around to make sure that no one was watching, he walked over to the mountainside and jammed the blade into a crease between the moss-covered stones. He wiggled it to make certain that it was wedged in tightly, then stepped back to give the blade a kick. The blade twanged and wobbled, but stayed stuck. Runaan kicked it a few more times, then wrenched it free to assess the blade. There was a slight, though distinct bend in it. Perfect.

He went back to the smithy.

"Ethari," he called out.

Ethari looked up in surprise, his file freezing above the blade he had been working on. Brows drawing together in confusion, he straightened and set the file down. "Runaan," he acknowledged. "Back so soon?"

"I nearly forgot to give you this." Runaan strode over to the anvil and held out his sword. "It hasn't been folding properly. I think it needs to be flattened."

Ethari took his glove off and accepted the sword to look it over. His brows rose in recognition, then furrowed in renewed confusion. "Didn't I just fix this?"

"Yes. I––"

"It looks like you used it as a crowbar."

Runaan froze, realizing his error as Ethari lifted his gaze to stare at him. "I...dropped it," he replied. "Down the mountain."

Ethari continued to stare at him. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Huh," he said after a moment. He shook his head, sighed, and set the sword on the edge of the forge. "All right. I'll have it done by tomorrow, then."

"Thank you." Runaan remained by the anvil, uncertain of how to continue the conversation. Ethari cast an odd look at him.

"Was there something else?"

Runaan scowled. This wasn't working. "No," he snapped. "I'll be on my way." Ears heating in a combination of annoyance and embracement, Runaan turned and started to stalk back out of the smithy. Why did Ethari have to be so difficult? Runaan had given him ample opportunity to give an indication of renewed interest. What did he want? What was he expecting Runaan to say?

"Hey, Runaan?"

Runaan paused just beneath the arches, a surge of relief flooding through him. He turned expectantly, ready to accept Ethari's apology for insisting on playing this ridiculous game. "Yes?"

Ethari regarded him silently. His lips parted as though he wanted to say something. After a moment, he shook his head and looked back down at his work. "Never mind," he said quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Runaan's jaw clenched. As Ethari began filing again, he passed through the arches and headed back down the street. _This is fine,_ he told himself firmly. _When I come back, I can expect some manner of alteration to my weapon, just like last time. That must be it. He's been planning to present me with an entirely new weapon––one of these designs he was showing me before. No wonder he's waited so long to contact me. Weapons take time to make._

Runaan relaxed at the thought, and his mood immediately lightened. Wouldn't that be a fine surprise? Acting as though nothing special was about happen, and then surprising Runaan with a masterpiece. Runaan chuckled to himself as the last of his annoyance faded. He would have to feign surprise when Ethari gave it to him.

_Something like that would be difficult to top. I'll need to start planning my reciprocation tonight..._

Runaan left the smithy behind. The next night, he forced himself to wait a few hours after sundown before returning. He didn't want to look to eager, after all. Ethari couldn't know that Runaan had already guessed what he was planning.

He walked swiftly along the main road, exchanging a distracted greeting to a teacher escorting a group of adolescent students as he passed them. One of the students pointed a finger excitedly at him and tugged upon the arm of her companion.

"Isn't he one of the assassins?" she whispered loudly. "When do we get to do a lesson with them?"

"We don't do assassin lessons, Sheilen," the teacher replied patiently. "It's part of the warrior demonstration at the end of the year, when you'll be learning different fighting techniques. If Mora decides you have potential, you'll be invited to learn more on an individual basis."

The girl muttered a complaint, and Runaan hid a smile.It was good to know that the next generation of Silvergrove Elves were looking forward to joining the specialized ranks of the assassins. It would be difficult training, and only a precious few would be permitted to study with Mora, but the skills they acquired would be well worth the effort.

_I should request the honor of hosting the demonstration,_ he thought to himself. _I wouldn't mind assessing the applicants, myself._

He left the group behind and continued onwards. When he reached the smithy, it was to find both Faleth and Ethari setting up several anvils near the forge. Their usual projects had been set aside to make room for a display table and several stacks of supplies. _A lesson,_ Runaan realized. Those students he had passed were probably on their way to receive their blacksmithing demonstration. Runaan remembered such things from his own days as a student back in Moonshire. Students took the time to learn the basic skills of nearly every occupation available, that they would have a better idea of what they could expect when they chose a vocation themselves. Runaan hadn't been particularly talented with bending metal into the decorative hook the master blacksmith had been trying to show them. He'd spent the lesson trying to hammer a rod into the shape of a stiletto instead.

His teacher had been livid.

Ethari brought over a basket filled with gloves and began to set one upon each anvil. As Runaan neared, he looked up and offered a smile. "Back for your sword?" he asked. "Hold on, I've got it right here." He handed the basket to Faleth and walked over to his work desk. Runaan followed him, and nodded his thanks as Ethari handed him his newly polished blade. "I have a night set aside this week to work on that bow-blade I showed you," Ethari said as Runaan looked it over. "This set looks like it might be ready for retirement."

Runaan hummed absently. There were no flowers braided around the handle. He didn't see any runes. And this was definitely not one of the new designs Ethari had discussed with him several nights earlier. Puzzled, he turned the sword over to see if he had missed anything, then looked around in realization. Ethari wouldn't want to give him anything special in front of Faleth, especially with the children due to arrive at any moment. Runaan would have to wait until afterwords.

He folded the blade into the handle and affixed it to his belt. "It looks as though you're setting up for instruction," he said with mild interest. "May I observe?"

"If you want." Ethari started to move away, and Runaan quickly dug into his pocket to pull out a piece of amethyst he had acquired earlier that night.

"Oh, here," he said as though in afterthought. "I found this on the road. Someone probably dropped it. I don't care for such things, but you appreciate beauty. Would you like it?"

Ethari turned to accept the stone, and smiled in appreciation. "Thank you. I'll put it over here." He returned to his worktable to set the stone on one of his shelves, and Runaan peered around his shoulder to inspect the table's surface. The clutter had been cleared away. Everything looked relatively organized. Runaan hummed in approval.

"Your worktable looks good."

Ethari chuckled. "I've been keeping it clean."

"And your house?"

"That, too." There was an uncovered bowl of dried ink near Ethari's hand. He surreptitiously slipped it out of sight, and Runaan pretended not to notice.

"Perhaps I should come over some time," he offered. "I can point out anything you may have overlooked."

Ethari laughed again and straightened an uneven stack of papers on the corner of the desk. "That won't be necessary, Runaan. I think I've got it managed."

The sound of footsteps approaching cut off anything Runaan might have said in response. Ethari brushed past him to greet the students, leaving Runaan to stand alone at the table. "Good evening!" Ethari greeted brightly as the students assembled in front of the forge. "Welcome to the smithy! Please have a––no, don't touch that yet. Have a seat, and we'll get started."

Runaan eased along the perimeter of the wall as the students settled themselves upon the floor. Faleth stepped in front of Ethari, his fists planted upon his hips and he surveyed what he would be working with for the next few hours.

"Okay, kids!" he boomed. "You've come here to get a taste of what it means to be a blacksmith, so listen up. Unless you like running around in circles screaming because you're on fire, make sure your hair is tied back and your clothing's tucked in. Don't touch _anything_ unless instructed to do so." He waited a few moments while the students checked their hair and cloths, then continued. "Blacksmithing," he said sternly, "is an art form. Like any artist, what you get out will be exactly what you put in. We'll only be doing a simple project today, but I guarantee you, you're going to walk out of this smithy with sore muscles, a headache, and a treasure you'll be wanting to show off to everyone you meet for the next several days. Now, you're teacher has told me you reviewed terminology before coming here. Who can tell me what this is for?" He picked up a set of billows and held it up. Hands shot in the air as students bounced for attention.

"I can!"

"Me! Me!"

"When do we learn how to make a sword?"

The question earned a sharp look of reproach from the teacher. _"Sheilen!"_ she hissed. _"Enough!"_

Faleth set the billows down. He took several steps forward, picking his way between the students to stand before the girl who had spoken out. "Swords," he said quietly, "come after years of practice. _Good_ swords take even longer to master. And if you can't stay focused on a simple task at hand, you'll never make it far enough to make so much as a bread knife." He returned to the front of the group. "Tonight," he went on as Sheilen made a face at his back, "you'll be learning something basic. Who knows what this is?" He held up a small metal object: two snakes with their tails and necks entwined to form the shape of a heart.

"A fortune charm!" someone called out, and Faleth jabbed a finger at him in affirmation.

"Aye! Your next demonstration will be with the enchanters, where you'll be learning how to turn these little charms into something that may grant you extra luck once a night for a full moon. Poor quality items result in poor quality enchantments, so I'd advise against slacking off."

"Blacksmithing and enchanting go hand-in-hand," Ethari chimed in. "Warriors seek swords that blaze with fire in battle, and armor that prevents even the sharpest dagger from penetrating it. We make arrows that can pierce through steel, gauntlets that grant extra strength, collars that ward off evil magic. There's nothing that says you can't learn two vocations––or even more! You'll find that many of the skills you learn today can be applied to projects across many crafts."

As both Faleth and Ethari began to lay out the instructions for their class, the teacher moved closer to Runaan. "Good evening," she greeted quietly. "Will you be joining us tonight?"

Runaan chuckled as he looked over the training supplies. "I haven't done this since I was a child," he murmured.

"It'll would good for the students to see an adult learning alongside them," the teacher replied. "Especially one they admire." She pointed to one of the students. "That one wants to be some manner of fighter. She isn't interested in anything else. Perhaps you could have a conversation with her about the importance of having a well-rounded education?"

Runaan narrowed his eyes at the girl who had asked about swords. She was looking around in boredom, though her attention kept returning to the display table beside the forge. _Sheilen,_ he recalled. _She's eager to fight. Lacks patience. No discipline, but that can be learned._ Runaan considered, then nodded slowly. "Ethari," he called out as the students rose to take their places beside their anvils. "It's been a long time since I've taken up a hammer. May I join your class?"

Ethari and Faleth looked at each other in surprise. "Uh...yeah," Ethari said. "Let me get you some supplies."

As Ethari moved to the back of the smithy to collect more items, Runaan wandered casually over to the students and paused beside Sheilen. "May I share your anvil?" he asked.

Sheilen's eyes grew round, and she quickly sidestepped to make room for him. He picked up her hammer and turned it over curiously before handing it back. "I don't care for this manner of work," he admitted. "I've found the basic training to be valuable in making emergency repairs, however. This will be good practice."

Ethari returned with a glove and several different tools. As soon as he left, Sheilen dropped her voice low and leaned closer. "Are you really an assassin?" she whispered eagerly. "Do you ever make your own swords?"

Runaan looked pointedly towards the display table. "Not like those," he said. "I leave that to the masters. I'm often forced to create makeshift weapons, however. Skills like these come in surprisingly handy, when a sword's been knocked from your grip and you've run out of arrows."

Sheilen's eyes grew wider still. She looked away thoughtfully, and when Faleth began issuing his next instructions, Runaan was pleased to see her paying closer attention.

For the next few hours, he worked with her to create the simple charm. On occasion, he would feign confusion, or conveniently forget an instruction. Each time, Sheilen was quick to offer him encouragement and instructions. Seeing that someone seemed to boost her confidence and focus; she was obviously eager to impress Runaan, and didn't want to let him down. That boded well for her. Once she settled on her vocation, she would be an attentive and dedicated pupil.

As they worked together, Runaan cast occasional glances towards Ethari. Not surprisingly, he was good with the students, his gentle voice and easy smile putting them at ease as he guided them through the process. Every now and then, he cast a quick look towards Runaan, only to look away when their gaze met. Even when he finally came over to check on their work, he seemed hesitant to talk directly to Runaan.

_Is he actually shy?_ Runaan thought in amusement. _Nervous to be near me with this many people watching?_ Runaan had to suppress a chuckle at the thought. He wouldn't have expected Ethari to be so self-conscious. _Perhaps he's doing it for my benefit,_ he thought. _I think he understands that I wouldn't care for public displays of affection._

"Put the dent right about here," Ethari murmured as he bent over Sheilen's charm to inspect it. "That'll keep the tails from pulling apart when you start to curve the bodies." He moved to look over Runaan's shoulder, and quickly reached out to lay a hand on his wrist as Runaan started to position a fuller against the base of one of the snakes he had crafted. "Not there," he said. "That's too low. The tails won't have space to curl around one another."

Runaan glanced down at the dark hand laying upon his wrist. It was larger than his own hand, the fingers strong and firm. He looked back up, and for a moment, he and Ethari held each other's gaze.

Ethari cleared his throat and pulled his hand away. "Good work so far," he said as he straightened. "Let me know if you have questions."

Runaan watched him walk away. He took a moment to trail his fingertips along his wrist, then moved the fuller higher. He wasn't really interested in making the charm, but he didn't want Ethari to think him inept. He was going to make this charm as near to perfect as possible.

The hours passed quickly. Sheilen took her finished charm and showed it off proudly to Runaan, then ran to her teacher to do the same. As the teacher congratulated her, Runaan slipped his own charm into his pocket and backed away to stand against the wall again, silently observing the students as they showed each other their finished projects. One was already asking how he might be able to shape scales into the snakes, plate it in silver, and affix gems into the eyes. _A future jewelry crafter,_ Runaan mused. It was always interesting to see the budding interests of youth blossom into professional inclinations.

As the students filed out of the smithy, Ethari and Faleth set to putting everything away. Hoping for the chance to speak to Ethari alone, Runaan loitered nearby.

"Thanks for joining us tonight, Runaan," Faleth grunted as he hefted a box of hammers onto the display table. "I honestly wasn't expecting you to be interested."

"I enjoyed myself." Runaan rubbed his shoulder and winced. "You weren't lying about the sore muscles. I'm not used to that particular motion."

"No?" Faleth cast him a grin and raised his arm. "There's not much difference between this," he made a hammering gesture, "and this." He turned the hammering gesture into a downward stabbing motion instead, and Runaan arched his brow wryly.

"This," he replied as he mimicked the stabbing motion, "usually has less of an impact."

"True enough," Faleth chuckled. "Well, we'll finish cleaning up here. Drop by whenever you want."

The dismissal was obvious. Runaan frowned and shifted his attention to Ethari. "Are you certain? I have time. I can stay a while longer to help."

"Naw, thanks" Faleth said. "We've got ourselves a system. You go ahead."

Ethari wasn't even looking at him. Runaan's frown deepened. _I suppose I'll have to come back later,_ he decided. _Maybe it would be best to visit him at his home so we can have more privacy. No, he didn't want me to come over. He probably has things laying out again, and is too embarrassed to admit it. Hmm. Didn't he say he was going to be watching Rayla tonight? He was gracious enough to refuse my assistance in watching her, but there's no reason why I can't still keep him company. It'll give him the chance to speak more openly with me. I'll make it clear that there's no need to worry over when the best time to present me with a gift might be. I don't need gifts. All I want is his time._

Runaan murmured a polite agreement and offered a slight bow. As he straightened, Ethari looked up and rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly.

"Uh...Runaan," he said. Runaan looked at him expectantly, and Ethari avoided meeting his gaze. "Would you like me to enchant that charm for you?"

_Well, if you insist..._

Pressing his lips together to keep from smiling, Runaan slipped the charm from his pocket and walked over to hand it to Ethari. "Certainly," he said. "Thank you, Ethari."

Ethari took it without looking at him. "I'll have it sent to your house when it's finished."

"I'll look forward to it."

Faleth shot a sharp look towards Runaan, and realizing how things must have sounded, Runaan forced a harder edge into his voice. "It means I won't have to follow those students to the enchanter's temple and sit through another lesson."

Faleth's expression cleared. With a coarse laugh, he gave Runaan a hard pat on the shoulder. "Never too old for lessons," he said in an encouraging tone. "Ethari, why don't you show him how to enchant it?"

Runaan brightened, but kept his agreement tight behind his teeth as he saw a look of discomfort cross over Ethari's face. "Another time," Runaan said. "Enchantments aren't really my skillset."

_And if Ethari's planning a special enchantment, he won't want me hovering over his shoulder and ruining the surprise._

He inclined his head in a gesture of farewell and turned to leave the smithy.

He was looking forward to tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun note: Back when I first started this fic and had Runaan bringing all those weapons to Ethari for repair, my plan had been to include a part where Runaan damages his weapons on purpose just to irritate him. I decided to remove that part because it made Runaan look mean, and it just added needless length to the chapter. A while later, I heard a podcast with the creators of the show where they were joking that Runaan probably tried to get Ethari's attention by bringing him weapons more often than necessary for repair. So of course I had to bring back the "damage the weapons on purpose" idea! :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

It was growing late. As Silvergrove settled in for the last threads of night, the streets became quieter. The combined scents of many meals being prepared wafted through the air, punctuated by the steady chirping of insects. Further down in the pavilion, a crowd was assembled to appreciate the musical duet of two flutists sharing their compositions. The faint trills of the flutes offered a peaceful melody that no doubt aided in lulling to sleep children already tucked into their beds.

Runaan padded quietly down the road, his steps brisk and light as he considered and discarded possible topics of conversation. The discussion he and Ethari had shared about weaponry had been engaging, but Runaan didn't want him to think that was the only thing he would be interested in.

_There's more to me than that. And there's more to him._

His fingers tightened around the package he carried. He had spent the better part of the night teaching himself how to make moonberry tarts. The first few batches hadn't turned out very well, but this batch had been a success. Runaan had selected only the best of the bunch to set within the wooden container, and had wrapped it carefully in cloth. The ribbon Ethari had brought him during their date was tied neatly around it, knotted into a meticulous bow.

_He told me he wasn't good at baking. I hope that means he'll appreciate the efforts of others. And if not, we can leave them for Tiadrin and Lain. Between the two of them, the box will be reduced to crumbs in seconds._

Runaan chuckled to himself as he made a turn down the narrow road that led towards a small cul-du-sac. Several houses circled the curve of the quiet dead end, their molted grey stonework shrouded in leaves and vines. Runaan easily picked out Lain and Tiadrin's home; in addition to the greenery, creeping flowers had been guided along the roof to spill over one side in a waterfall of white and purple petals.

It was a charming home, even if it did attract insects.

Runaan absently swatted at the air as he passed through a cloud of gnats to stand before the front door. Was he too early? Maybe Ethari hadn't arrived yet. Runaan tucked the circular box under his arm and untied the stack of blocks from his belt. Regardless of who answered the door, he would be ready.

_I really should have staked the location first. Oh, well. Next time._

He took a breath and gave the door a sharp knock. From somewhere inside came a muffled, "Come in!" Tiadrin's voice. Drat. Runaan shifted the blocks to his other hand and pushed the door open. Inside, Tiadrin was bustling about straightening the main room in preparation for company. "Hey, Runaan," she greeted distractedly. "Lain and I are just about to leave."

"I know. I won't stay long." Runaan lifted the blocks out in offering. "I've brought Rayla a present. How is she?"

"Well..." Tiadrin straightened and swept back her bangs. "She's started walking. And teething. And her horns are finally budding."

Runaan's gaze skipped over her. Though Tiadrin had dressed nicely for the night, she was already looking disheveled. "I see," he murmured. "Perhaps I should have asked how _you're_ doing." He held out the blocks. As Tiadrin accepted them, a thin wail pierced the air from somewhere on the second level. A rapid set of footsteps pounded towards it, and as the wailing died away, Tiadrin let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Lain found out we can calm her down by rubbing her horn nubs," she said. "I don't know what we'd do, otherwise. She's been an absolute monster, these past few nights."

"Ethari did mention the two of you needed a break," Runaan said, and Tiadrin laughed.

"No kidding! He's going to watch her for us tonight. Good luck to him. Don't get me wrong," she added quickly. "I love Rayla. But she is going to drive me absolutely insane if I don't get away from her." She looked towards the stairs as Lain's footsteps began to descend them. "Did you get her to go to sleep?" she asked hopefully.

Lain only glowered at her. "You're joking."

Tiadrin let out an exhausted hum and set the blocks on the table nearby. "Runaan brought these for Rayla," she said as Lain walked over to join them. "Ethari's apparently told him she's running us ragged."

Lain laughed appreciatively. "Thanks, Runaan. Rayla will love these." Lain picked up the blocks and started untying them. "So," he said casually, "you're still talking to Ethari, huh? I'm glad to hear it. I was worried you'd start avoiding him."

As Lain stacked the blocks on the table, Runaan frowned at him. "Why would I do that?" he asked.

"You know. The date."

Runaan sighed in annoyance. "So Ethari's already told you about it, then?"

"Someone had to," Tiadrin said. "When I asked you how it went, all you said was, 'fine'. How are we supposed to give you advice when you don't give us details?"

Runaan pursed his lips. He would need to speak to Ethari about being too free with personal information.

Both Lain and Tiadrin were looking at him expectantly. Runaan straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. "I may not be well-versed in courtship," he said stiffly, "but I believe I can manage my affairs without your assistance. What of you?" he added before they could respond. "Did your courtship go smoothly?"

Tiadrin snorted. "Yeah, after I beat him up and made him cry."

Lain shot her an affronted look. "Okay, let's be clear about few things, here," he said in mock annoyance. "We were sparring, and she was trying to get my attention––and I guess staring at the back of my head and willing me to look at her wasn't working fast enough, so she challenged me to a fight. And _then_ she beat me up and made me cry."

"I was trying to impress you," Tiadrin reminded him.

"You gave me a concussion."

"I took care of you, didn't I?"

"You barged into my house and wouldn't leave! I was too dizzy to kick you out."

"You make it sound like I was holding you hostage."

_"You were!"_ Lain raised a hand to cut off the escalating argument and slanted a grin back at Runaan. "So why are you asking? Are you already regretting it?"

Runaan bit back a smile at the good-natured complaints of his friends. "Regretting what?" he chuckled. "The date? I told you, it was fine."

"Then why did you turn him down?"

Runaan stared at Lain. His good humor vanished, and as his expression grew guarded, Lain's smile faltered. "Ethari," he prompted. "He said you cordially parted ways after you rejected his proposition."

"He said you didn't seem interested in pursuing anything with him," Tiadrin chimed in, "but that he looked forward to being your friend. Runaan, didn't you––"

Runaan turned to grab the door and pull it open. "I should head back," he said in a sharp voice. "Enjoy your night together."

"Wait, Runaan––"

Runaan yanked the door shut behind himself and walked swiftly away from the house. In one hand, his fingers tightened around the cloth covering the box of tarts, the fabric creaking beneath the strength of his grip.

_I've made a fool of myself,_ he thought furiously as he stalked away. _Shamelessly trying to earn his attention...making plans to bring him sweets... I should have known better. He wasn't responding to any of my offers. And I somehow rejected whatever offer he thinks he made to_ me _. What was it? What did I miss?_

His ears were burning, and his stomach twisted as he recalled his behavior back at the smithy. Runaan hadn't been entirely subtle about his desire to spend time with Ethari. And Ethari had turned away each attempt, not even bothering to acknowledge them.

_He knew. There's no possible way he didn't notice what I was trying to do. He ignored it. He ignored_ me! _He'd already decided to stop wasting time on me, and he let me think that I still have a chance!_

The road bent around a cluster of tall bushes. Runaan started to round it––and immediately collided with someone coming from the opposite direction. Runaan stumbled backwards to catch his balance, and the box fell from his grip as he lifted his hands automatically. The other person did the same, then froze for a moment before slowly lowering his own hands.

"Hi, Runaan," Ethari said. "Sorry. I didn't see you." Before Runaan could respond, Ethari stooped to gather the fallen box and offered it to him with a sheepish smile. "Here you go. You okay?"

Runaan snatched the box from his hands and brushed past him without a word. He rounded the corner, his cheeks ablaze in both anger and humiliation. This whole thing had been a mistake. He never should have agreed to the date, nor tried to earn Ethari's friendship. He _knew_ it was a mistake, and he had done it anyway!

_...It's my own fault. I know better than to get close to someone. Affection invites weakness. Weakness creates vulnerabilities._

_I will not allow myself to become vulnerable again._

Runaan's steps slowed, and his anger slowly faded away as he looked down at the unopened box in his hands.

_It doesn't have to be a weakness. Lain and Tiadrin are stronger together. Why shouldn't the same hold true for me?_

He ran his thumb over the silk ribbon. Turning, he parted his lips, then pressed them thin before he could speak his apology aloud. Ethari was already gone. Fingers tightening, Runaan took a few steps after him, then halted in indecision. His face hardened, and with a frustrated snarl, he turned again and flung the box away. The box sailed through the air to smash against the road, the cloth wrap bursting open as the lid shot free to roll into the grass. Tarts bounced after it, and Runaan scowled at them in accusation. He had wasted too much time on this hopeless endeavor.

"Temper, Runaan."

Startled, Runaan spun around, then straightened self-consciously. His mentor stood before him, her white hair braided tightly and her keen eyes narrowed in scrutiny. She looked pointedly over her shoulder in the direction Ethari had been walking, then tilted her head to look around Runaan at the scattered tarts.

"Favor him, do you?" she asked knowingly.

Runaan kept his jaw clenched. "No," he said flatly.

Mora hummed as she walked casually around him, and clasped her hands behind her back as she turned to face him again. "Pity," she said. "It would be a practical match. He's due to become Faleth's successor. Taking up with a master blacksmith would guarantee you superior weaponry for years to come."

"That's not why I'm––"

Realizing what he was admitting, Runaan cut himself off. It was too late. Mora arched one elegant brow and took a slow step closer. She was a slight woman nearing her final years, but despite her age and small stature, there was something intimidating about the way she carried herself. Runaan couldn't keep himself from leaning away, though he managed to catch himself before instinctively stepping back.

"Use caution, Runaan," Mora warned in a low voice. "The more people you care about, the more weaknesses you'll have. An enemy will always target those who are closest to your heart. You must strive to keep a distance between yourself and those with whom you associate."

"A hard heart is stronger than one that beats for someone else," Runaan recited quietly, and Mora inclined her head the barest amount in approval.

"People like us can't afford romance, Runaan. Dally as you will, but keep your trysts casual."

"I understand."

Mora's eyes narrowed. She cocked her head in consideration, and a cold smile ghosted across her lips. "You understand," she murmured, "but you don't agree." She stepped back to give him space. "We'll discuss this more later," she said briskly. "For now, gather your supplies and meet me at the Arborwatch outpost within the hour. Two Earthbloods are approaching our territory. They carry both supplies and weapons, but we've not received word of their arrival. Find them. Deal with them."

Runaan immediately tensed in alert interest. "In what manner?"

"That's up to you. Assess the situation and use your training to make your decisions. Report back to me in detail upon your return."

Runaan thought quickly. Nearing Moonshadow territory, but not yet within it. That meant at least one night of travel to reach them. Though the Earthbloods were allies, unexpected incursions needed to be treated with caution––especially when the intruders were armed. The last Earthblood scout had led Runaan to a group of human poachers. The increased presence of their people was an ill omen. Either the Earthbloods were hunting humans...or they were working with them.

_Long travel, potential battle, multiple participants. Scout first, then interrogate, negotiate, and prepare for combat._

_This isn't a solo mission._

"I request to be accompanied by Desha and Halash," Runaan said aloud. "If these Earthbloods mean us harm, I will need their aide in disposing of them."

Mora gave him a curt nod. "I'll send for them," she agreed, and paused to give him a meaningful look. "They will be taking orders from you, Runaan. Not from me."

_I am responsible for the situation,_ Runaan translated. _For better or worse, Desha and Halash's actions will be attributed to my leadership. Their mistakes will be mine._

"Understood," he said.

"Then go."

Runaan set off immediately. As he strode away, Mora watched after him silently. She shifted her gaze to the broken box of tarts laying on the side of the road, then turned slightly to look towards the corner Ethari had disappeared around.

_Such a promising student,_ she thought wistfully. _It would a shame if he were to lose his focus over a simple infatuation. But he is young. The hardest lessons of life often rise at this age._

_He will learn._

Mora walked away, leaving the tarts behind as she set off to find Desha and Halash. The night was fading quickly, and she had her own plans to make.

Further down the road behind her, Ethari knocked on the door to Lain and Tiadrin's home. As he let himself it, it was to find Lain bouncing a screaming Rayla against his shoulder as Tiadrin desperately tried to offer her a bright red block to play with. Ethari shook his head and shut the door behind himself.

"It's going to be one of _those_ nights, is it?" he said as he crossed the room to take Rayla. As Lain handed her over, Ethari gently turned her to rest face down against the crook of his arm and began to rock her. Rayla's cries immediately began to die down, and Tiadrin stared at him in shock.

"You'll need to teach me how to do that," she breathed.

"Later," Ethari chuckled. "You and Lain should head out, else you'll never leave."

Tiadrin nodded and patted distractedly at her rumpled clothes. "I'm going to straighten up," she sighed. "Thank you, Ethari. You're a lifesaver."

As she trotted up the stairs, Ethari dropped into a comfortable chair and shifted Rayla again to rub her back. Lain sat beside him with a heavy sigh and rubbed his face wearily. "She's right, you know," he muttered. "You really are a lifesaver. You have no idea how much we need a break."

"Children get fussy," Ethari replied with a shrug. "She'll grow out of it."

"And into something else, I'm sure." Lain leaned forward to rest his elbows against his thighs and grinned at him. Though Ethari grinned back, the smile was strained, not quite meeting his eyes. Lain's brows drew together on concern. "Are you okay, Ethari? You look tired."

"I'm fine, Lain."

"Are you sure? You don't have to watch Rayla if you're not feeling well. Tiadrin and I can go out another time."

"I said I'm fine," Ethari repeated with a soft laugh. "I'm just having a rough day. I think..." He trailed off for a moment, and chewed the inside of his cheek before letting out a sigh. "Lain, I could use some advice," he admitted.

Lain scooted closer. "Sure," he said. "What's the problem?"

"Runaan."

Lain stiffened. He shot a quick glance towards the stairs and back again. "Uh..."

"I don't get him," Ethari said without waiting for a response. "I told you he didn't seem interested back at that date we had. He ignored me for nearly a week afterwards, like he didn't even want to talk to me anymore. And then yesterday," he continued in growing agitation, "he just showed up and started being weirdly nice. You know, offering to help me, wanting to talk to me, trying to get involved with everything I was doing. A couple of times, it seemed like he was trying to invite me on another date, but I knew it couldn't be that, because why would he do that after he had already turned me down? I thought maybe he was just trying to be friendly, but I saw him just now on the street, and he barely even grunted at me when I said hello. Is that normal for him?"

The breathless rush of information abruptly stopped as Ethari stared expectantly at Lain. Clearing his throat, Lain leaned back and tried to come up with an appropriate response. He wasn't fast enough; Ethari let out a frustrated growl and leaned back in the chair.

"He's driving me crazy," he complained. "I think I liked it better when he was being a bastard. At least then, I wasn't as confused as I am now."

Lain latched on to the comment. It was a good opening, but he would need to be careful about how he phrased things. He didn't want Ethari to feel stupid––and he definitely didn't want to make Runaan sound like an idiot, either. "So...about that," he started slowly. "Are you absolutely sure Runaan rejected you? Maybe he wasn't turning down the offer of a relationship. Maybe he was just turning down the offer to sleep with him on the first date."

Ethari huffed out a skeptical laugh. "He made no indication that he wanted to see me again, Lain. And he didn't argue when I asked for closure."

Lain hesitated. He scratched the side of his nose, glanced towards the stairs again, then lowered his voice. "Listen, Ethari. I've got a good feeling about the two of you. I bet if you were to talk to Runaan again, he'd––"

"Finally!" Tiadrin clomped down the stairs, nearly jumping over the last few steps in her eagerness to leave. "I can't get out of here fast enough. Let's go, Lain. We might be able to catch to end of that flute performance, if we hurry. Bye, Ethari! We'll be back in a few hours!" She grabbed Lains arm and yanked him to his feet. Ignoring his protests, she dragged him to the door and flung it open. Ethari waved them off, and as Tiadrin swung the door shut, she lifted a hand in response. "Bye!"

"Enjoy yourselves!"

The door clicked shut. Tiadrin set off down the road, and Lain tugged against her grip

"Tiadrin, wait, we need to go back. Ethari––"

"What did you tell him?" Tiadrin hissed. "Lain, what did you _do?"_

She let him go, and Lain slowed to a halt in surprise. "Nothing!" he said defensively. "Ethari thinks Runaan's acting like he might be interested after all, and wanted advice for what to do about it. I was just about to tell him about Runaan, but you––"

"Don't you dare!"

Lain gapped at his wife. "What, you don't want them to get together?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course I do! But––"

"Then what's the problem?"

With an irritated growl, Tiadrin started walking again, and Lain trotted after her. "Look, Ethari likes Runaan," he explained. "And Runaan likes Ethari. _And look how they're handling it._ If we don't clear things up for them, they're going to keep being idiots about––"

"Moon spare you, Lain," Tiadrin interrupted again. "You just don't get it. Ethari was so disappointed about being rejected. We can't build his hopes up again unless we know for certain that Runaan will accept him."

"But that's just it," Lain objected. "Didn't you hear what Runaan said? He's been thinking this whole time that he and Ethari were still dating!"

_"Exactly!_ Didn't you see his face when he left? He was humiliated!" Tiadrin ran her fingers through her hair in agitation. "You know what he's like Lain. He's not someone who opens himself up to people. He think's it'll make him vulnerable somehow. _And that's exactly what happened._ He's going to completely distance himself from the whole thing, now––and if we make Ethari think he still has a chance, Runaan avoiding him will just make him feel worse."

Lain fell silent as he thought things over. He wanted to help his friends, but Tiadrin had a point. A situation like this would be easy to screw up even more than it already was. "So what's the plan?" he asked finally.

"No plans," Tiadrin replied sharply. "We can't get involved."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because there's a time to meddle, and a time to step back and let things happen. You can't force a relationship to work."

"Tiadrin..."

"Runaan would resent our interference," Tiadrin insisted. "And Ethari would feel pressured. Declaring affection for someone...that's something special. Something _personal._ They need to do it themselves." She paused, and her steps slowed as her eyes narrowed in thought. "Or," she continued softly, "to at least _think_ they're doing it themselves."

Lain halted beside her. As he took in Tiadrin's expression, he leaned towards her with a conspiratorial grin. "I know that look," he whispered. "Whatever it is, I'm in."

Tiadrin bit her lip and began to walk again. "We'll need to somehow trick them into bumping into each other by chance in a romantic location," she said as they rounded the corner of the road. "Maybe release a box of butterflies for mood. I could get someone to play music in the background––close enough to be heard, but far away enough that they don't think it's for them. Maybe..."

She halted. Lain bumped into her shoulder, and quickly stepped back to look past her. Not far up the road, there was a rumpled square of fabric laying halfway under a broken circular box with what looked to be cookies scattered around it.

"That's the box Runaan was carrying," Tiadrin said. She trotted forward, and Lain quickly followed after her. As she bent to pick up the cloth, he crouched beside the box to pick up one of the cookies. No, not a cookie. A moonberry tart.

"He must have made these for Ethari," he said thoughtfully as he picked one up.

_"Aw,"_ Tiadrin cooed. "That's so–– _Lain!"_ She grabbed her husband's wrist as he popped the tart into his mouth. "Don't eat those! They're covered in dirt! And they're not for you!"

"What, you want me to give dirty cookies to Ethari?" Lain pulled his hand away and reached for another one. "They're good. Here." He offered the tart to Tiadrin. When she only scowled at him in disgust, he sighed and reached out to gather all the tarts that was fallen out of the box. "Fine. I'll eat the ones that touched the ground. You can have the ones that stayed in the box. Okay?"

Tiadrin's frown deepened. She looked in disapproval at the stack of tarts in Lain's hand, then at the few clean ones clustered together at the bottom of the broken box he was holding out. After a moment, she sighed in defeat. No sense in wasting them. Tiadrin took the box and plucked a tart of out it, and closed her eyes as she bit into the flakey crust. "Oh, these _are_ good," she sighed enviously. She popped the rest into her mouth and licked her fingers as Lain rose to his feet. "I feel bad for eating them, though," she sighed. "You can always tell when something's made with love."

Lain started walking at a sedate pace, and as Tiadrin followed at his side, he cast her a fond look. "You think it's love, then?" he asked.

Tiadrin hummed uncertainly. "Not yet," she said. "But I think it can be." She smiled and tilted her face up to the sky, and Lain grimaced at her dreamy expression.

"Moon have mercy. You're already planning their wedding."

"Well, someone has to," came the prim response. "They'll be spending all their time staring lovingly into each other's eyes. You can't expect them to organize an entire wedding all by themselves. Someone will need to embroider ceremonial robes for them, and we'll need to get plenty of shineswood for the bonfire, and the binding ribbon will _have_ to be made from glimmer-glow silk..."

As Tiadrin began listing off her plans for the wedding, Lain chuckled and stuffed another tart into his mouth. Ethari and Runaan would _have_ to get together, now––else Lain never hear the end of it from Tiadrin.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_(Tigger warning for minor non-canon character death)_

The campsite was quiet.

Runaan sat atop a flat rock, his legs crossed beneath him as he readied himself for meditation. Behind him, finally setting up the last pieces of the tent they had been struggling to erect, were the twins, Desha and Halash. They were novices, but both held a great deal of potential, and Runaan fully expected them to do their best in the coming encounter.

As the twins bickered quietly over whether or not to let their messenger bird sleep in the tent with them, a stillness fell upon him. Runaan inhaled and exhaled steadily, calm and focused as he began to center himself. This was his personal ritual, one he took part in every time he was given a mission. Out here, with the potential for death looming ahead, he couldn't let himself dwell upon his troubles back home. Now was a time for reflection. It was a time for silence and clarity, allowing him to focus entirely on the task at hand.

It was a time to make peace with himself.

Runaan thought upon his life: his happiest memories, his accomplishments, the bright future he was ensuring––even if there was a chance he would not be a part of it. Every assignment he embarked upon carried with it the possibility of his death. Every breath he took might be his last, and so each breath grew increasingly more valuable.

 _My life has held meaning,_ he told himself _. I need not fear pain, for it shall be only temporary. I need not fear disgrace, for what I do, I do for Xadia. And I need not fear death, for my life is already forfeit. It has belonged to my people since my conception, and I would trade it gladly to ensure their safety._

Faces appeared in his mind: the many people of Silvegrove whom he kept safe from outside dangers. There was the old woman who made toys for children. The girl who wanted to be a warrior. The men and women Runaan sparred with. His friends, Tiadrin and Lain. The warm smile of Ethari as he tried to coax a laugh from Runaan.

Runaan broke from his meditation. He blinked in surprise, momentarily put off-balance by the sudden shift in his mental state. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, determined to refocus himself.

His mind drifted back to Ethari.

_Damn._

With a soft sigh, Runaan stretched his arms above his head to warm his muscles and slid off the rock. As he stood, he glanced over to Desha and Halash. Desha was sitting cross-legged in front of the tent, re-braiding a portion of her long white hair as her brother fed tiny pieces of food to the sleek blue bird Mora had assigned to them for quick message deliveries. Both of them looked up as Runaan stood, and they exchanged a glance with each other.

"Are you hungry?" Halash asked. "Would you like some rations?" held out a fistful of dried meat sticks. Runaan looked down at them in disinterest, then looked away.

"I have my own rations. Thank you."

"Told you," Desha muttered. Runaan shot a suspicious look towards him.

"Told you what?" he demanded.

Desha and Halash exchanged a chagrined look. "Nothing," the both mumbled.

_They've been talking about me behind my back._

The realization struck Runaan, and he turned away to hide his irritation. There was no point in complaining about it. He had no control over what people chose to say about him.

_And I have no reason to care. Their opinions are irrelevant. Let them say what they will._

He moved to the perimeter of the campsite and began a slow patrol around it. Behind him, there was a low murmuring, and then an exasperated growl.

"I'm just going to say it," Desha said, and stood to shoot a scowl at Runaan. "Are we not good enough for you, Runaan?"

The question caught Runaan off guard. He halted mid-step, and cast a wide-eyed look back at Desha. _"What?"_

"You don't talk to us," Desha accused. "You don't accept our food. You don't join us during celebrations or seek us out unless you want to spar. Do you think you're better than us?"

Bewildered, Runaan turned to stare at the twins. Both of them wore the same expression: sullen, guarded, offended. Runaan's first instinct was to reprimand them. His lips parted––and he clamped the shut again immediately. "I don't think that at all," he said, and Desha's frown deepened.

"We've been training together for a year," he reminded him. "Other factions in Silvergrove treat their members as family. _You_ treat us like an inconvenience."

"Assassins don't _have_ family," Runaan shot back. "Has Mora taught you nothing?"

Halash sighed and rested a hand upon her brother's ankle in a silent request for him to sit back down. "Forget it, Desha," she said quietly. "He's not going to change."

With an exasperated snort, Desha turned his back to Runaan and sat down. Still taken aback, Runaan only stared at them. These were his charges. These were the people who were meant to trust them with their lives, to follow him and take his orders without question. Had Runaan really been making them feel as though they weren't valued?

The recollection of Ethari's playful teasing rose in his mind. _Incapable of making friends. Socially inept._ Runaan's jaw clenched as the words sank through him. It wasn't as though he went out of his way to be standoffish. It just... _happened._

_I can to do better._

Runaan crossed the campsite and ducked into his tent. A few moments later, he emerged and stepped over to the twins. "Here," he aid gruffly. "Allow me to share these with you." He held out a fistful of rations. Desha and Halas looked up, then at each other, and then away.

"We have our own rations," Desha retorted.

Runaan's lips thinned at having his own words flung back at him. "I'm attempting to be friendly," he returned sharply. "Don't refuse my efforts and then fault me for not trying."

Halas cat her brother an anxious look. Ever the peacekeeper, she rose upon her knees to accept one of the reddish purple bars Runaan was offering. "What are these?" she asked as she sank back upon her hunches.

"Berry chews," Runaan said. "Various dried berries and seeds held together with honey and root paste. I find them more energizing than the rations Mora provides."

Halash took a cautious bite. Her face lit in approval, and she handed the other half to her brother. "They're good," she said as he reluctantly bit into it. "Who made them?"

"I did." Runaan bent to drop the rest of the bars upon the pile of dried meat between them. "You're welcome to take as many as you like."

Another exchanged another look. "Thank you," they said in unison.

 _They look to each other too often for confirmation and assurance. I will need to train them out of that._ Runaan stood awkwardly beside them, torn between commenting upon their obvious codependence or continuing his attempt to bond with them. Deciding that the training could wait, he sat on the ground to join them.

"I...know I can be distant," he said slowly. "That doesn't mean I think I'm better than anyone. I don't join you during celebrations because I don't care for the noise. I keep to myself because I enjoy solitude. And I don't treat you as family because I may one night watch you die a horrible death in front of me. I can't allow myself to be emotionally compromised in the midst of battle."

The little bird cooed and fluttered atop Halash's shoulder. She stroked the deep blue feathers of its crest and offered it a piece of a berry bar. "Our father used to say that an assassin needs to wear two faces," she said after a moment. "The one he shares with his friends, and the one he displays to his enemy."

"A good assassin creates two separate personalities," Desha chimed in, "and can switch between them depending on the situation. He said there's nothing wrong with loving the people around you, as long as you learn how to lock that love away when the time comes to exchange one face for the other."

Runaan offered a thin smile. "Your father was a wise man."

"Mora called him a fool."

There was resentment in Desha's tone, and Runaan hesitated before responding. "Mora is set in her ways," he replied carefully. "She is a strong and capable woman, and she has successfully kept Silvergrove safe for decades." He paused. "But I don't always agree with her methods," he finished quietly. He pushed himself to his feet and took a moment to make sure his blades were secure upon his belt. "Get some rest," he advised. "I will take the first watch. We should be able to meet our targets not long after first light."

As he moved away, Desha began to clean up the mess they had made of the rations. Halash whispered something to him and stood to join Runaan as he began to patrol the perimeter again.

"You've been looking preoccupied," she noted as she fell into step beside him. "Are you troubled by the mission? Is there something we should know?"

"I've not kept anything hidden from you," Runaan assured her. "The mission is exactly as I described upon our departure from Silvergrove."

"Ah." Halash watched him from the corner of her eye. A slow smile curled over her lips, and she lowered her voice to keep her brother from hearing her. "Are you thinking of the blacksmith, then?"

Runaan missed a step. He stumbled, caught himself, and shot her startled look. Halash shrugged.

"I heard a rumor," she said defensively. "Shaeden told me that Lyell said that Vaseid saw you watching him. There was longing in your eyes, so I heard tell."

Runaan's jaw clenched. He turned away to pretend to adjust the bow string over his shoulder and pursed his lips to keep from snapping out a reprimand. "You should not listen to petty rumors," he said shortly, and Halash huffed out a soft laugh.

"An assassin listens to _every_ rumor," she replied wryly. "One never knows when a tidbit of information may lead to a dark plot."

"My personal affairs are none of your concern."

"It's my concern if the man I'm trusting my life to doesn't have his mind fully set on the mission."

Runaan slowed to stop beside a cluster of bushes. He looked over to Desha, who had crawled halfway into his tent to fuss with something, and turned back to Halash. She was grinning expectantly at him. It was the expression of someone anticipating an entire meal's worth of gossip. If Runaan didn't say something, she would no doubt come up with her own conclusions to speculate upon with whatever friends she had been speaking to.

_Shaeden, Lyell, and Vaseid. I don't even know who they are._

Runaan sighed and began to walk again. "I am not involved with him," he muttered.

"Do you want to be?"

Runaan didn't respond, though he made no effort to conceal the growing irritation on his face. Halash studied him thoughtfully and nodded. "Tell him," she advised. "Longing looks do little to attract one who does not see them."

She gripped Runaan's shoulder, squeezed it, and left his side to join her brother. Runaan watched her for a moment, then resumed his patrol. Unbidden, the recollection of Lain's story rose in his mind. Tiadrin had attempted to gain his attention by staring at the back of his head, and when that hadn't worked, she had punched him. Runaan chuckled at the memory. Halash was right. Keeping silent about his problems with Ethari would not resolve them. He would need to be more aggressive in his approach.

_...What approach? Do I still want to try?_

Runaan halted again to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. This was obviously an issue that would continue to plague him if he did not take the time to lay it to rest. _Very well._ He would face the problem head on, identify a solution, and move on with his life.

Returning to the flat rock, Runaan sat down and arranged himself comfortably. He opened his senses to the trees around him, allowing his passive perception to heighten while he turned his mind inwards. Ethari had somehow come to the conclusion that Runaan had rejected his advances. Prior to the date, Ethari had been insistent on seeing if they might be a match. Afterwards, he had been distant and disinterested. Whatever had gone wrong, it had happened during the date. Runaan would have to replay every moment in his mind and pick out the exact moment he had ruined his chance.

 _I spoke sharply to him about not assuming I enjoy killing people,_ he thought after a long consideration. _He grew quiet for a time. He recovered quickly, though. I don't think that was it._

_...Was it my cooking?_

Runaan thought back to Ethari sitting at his table, shoveling food into his mouth as though he was afraid it might disappear.

_Definitely not my cooking._

Runaan closed his eyes and tilted his head as he ran over their conversations. A moment later, his eyes popped open. _The moonberry surprise! He brought me that entire batch, and I never offered to serve it! I must have offended him. But he seemed ready to leave! If he had waited for me to finish clearing the table, I'd have brought out fresh dishes and suggested dessert._

For a moment, Runaan was certain he had found the answer. It took only seconds for his certainty to fade. _Wait,_ he thought slowly. _He didn't seem ready to leave until he came downstairs. Before that, he was quite comfortable following me around and continue talking._

Runaan chewed his lower lip in consternation. He was missing something. Had he left a mess in the washroom? No, of course not. Runaan was meticulous about keeping his home clean. Perhaps Ethari had decided to poke around a little more and found something he didn't like. _Hmm._ There were no objectionable books in Runaan's collection. No collection of severed ears pinned to the wall or hostages tied up under his bed. Certainly no instruments of torture on display. Runaan couldn't imagine what Ethari might have seen to make him want to leave so quickly. There was really nothing up there except his bedroom and the––

_Oh._

Realization dawned upon him. Ethari had suggested that Runaan invite him upstairs. It hadn't been a request to use the facilities. It had been a proposition.

Runaan's cheeks flared in frustrated embarrassment. _Well, how was I supposed to know he was asking for a tryst?_ he thought angrily. _I didn't even know he was interested in me until a few hours before he came to visit! Did he really think a single date would be enough to make me want to bed him?_

The surge of anger was quickly washed away beneath a wave of disappointment. The truth of the matter was that if Ethari had issued the same invitation a night later, Runaan would have accepted it.

_Fools. Both of us._

Runaan stood again and began to pace around the campsite. _I can't leave things like this,_ he thought. _Think, Runaan! Make a choice! Either let Ethari go, or do something to get him back. Which shall it be?_

He paused beside his tent, and his fists clenched in resolution. _I want him back. And I need to make sure he knows it._

With a firm nod, Runaan resumed his patrol. It was going to be a long wait until morning, and he had a lot to think about.

When the sun finally dawned through the dense canopy, Runaan and the twins left their camp behind to intercept the approaching Earthblood intruders. Halash cast the messenger bird into the air to scout ahead, and when it returned, it chirped and hopped to indicate how far away their targets were.

"We'll ambush them at the clearing ahead," Runaan decided after consulting a map. "It falls right upon the edge of our boarders. We'll give them the open to go back the way they came. This encounter does not need to end in bloodshed."

They darted through the forest until they found the clearing and took to the trees. With a silent gesture, Runaan directed the twins to take up positions across from one another. The Earthblood Elves would be arriving from the northeast. Runaan would take the southwest position to block their entry into Moonshadow territory, while Desha and Halash would take the northwest and southeast positions respectively to cut off escape routes. Once they were settled, Runaan gestured again. Though he could not see the twins, he knew they would be watching him for direction. _Stay hidden,_ the gesture said. _Follow my lead._

It was nearly two hours before the telltale rustling of leaves announced the intruders. Runaan slowly slid an arrow from his quiver and nocked it into his bowstring. To his far right, there was a faint glimmer of silver as Halash drew her dagger. They were ready.

Two Earthblood Elves emerged from a line of bushes. One was a man, lithe of frame and dressed in molted leathers. Beside him, broader of shoulder and wearing light armor, was a woman. Runaan looked them over quickly. He could see a throwing ax on the man's belt, and there was a bow was slung over his shoulder. The woman carried a single blade at her waist. Both had heavy packs strapped to their backs. The woman carried an additional bundle close to her chest.

As they started to cross the clearing, Runaan released his arrow. It whisked through the air and embedded itself into the grass with a dull thump, only a few paces away from their feet. The two Earthbloods halted in alarm. The man immediately unlatched his ax, and the female shifted her bundle to grip the hilt of her sword. Tensing, Runaan hopped down to the branch beneath him to reveal himself.

"You've trespassed onto Moonshadow territory," he called down as he nocked another arrow and held it steady. "State your names and your intentions."

The man started to raise his ax, and the woman released her grip to hold out an arm to stop him. "My name is Jaluul," she called back. "This is my husband, Luthan. We are Earthblood hunters."

 _"Former_ Earthblood hunters," Luthan corrected. "We've been banished."

"We defected," Jaluul clarified as she shot her husband a warning look. "Please, grant us sanctuary for just a few days. All we need is a safe place to rest and a chance to replenish our supplies, and we'll be on our way."

"There is a difference between defecting and being banished," Runaan said. "Which is it?"

"There is no difference for us," Jaluul retorted. "We chose to leave, and because of that, we will not be permitted to return."

"What was your reason for leaving?"

Neither Earthblood responded. Runaan tightened his grip on his bow. If they were defectors, that suggested a lack of loyalty. Those who were willing to turn their backs upon their own people could not be trusted to reside within Silvergrove. If they had been banished, however, it must have been for some manner of crime. What would be bad enough for an Earthblood settlement to expel two hunters? Runaan's gaze lowered to the bundle in the woman's arms. She held it protectively, as though of all the things she carried, that would be the one item worth fighting for.

"That item you're carrying," Runaan said. "Place it on the ground and step away."

The woman's grip tightened. The yellowish green hue of her skin darkened in anger, and she took a step backwards. "I will not."

He husband lifted his ax a little higher, and Runaan was quick to note his change in stance. He was preparing himself to fight. Runaan tilted his head back and slightly to the left; a silent instruction for Desha to target him. "If you have stolen some item of importance from our Earthblood brethren, it is our duty to see it returned," he said aloud. "Bringing it into our territory makes us complicit in your crime, and endangers the peace our people have fostered for centuries. Place it on the ground and step away."

Jaluul's hand rose to cup the upper portion of the bundle. "This is no stolen relic," she spat back. "It's just a child!"

Almost as though on cue, a soft burble emitted from within the cloth wrappings of the bundle. A tiny pinkish arm waved in the air, and Jaluul quickly tucked it back in. Runaan's eyes narrowed.

"Is the child your own, or have you taken it from someone?"

Jaluul took an angry step forward, her mouth parting as though she intended to deliver a series of choice words in response. Her husband quickly moved to block her, and though he kept his grip tight upon his ax, he raised his free hand to placate Runaan. "Cousin, please hear our story," he called out. "These past several weeks, our scouts have been hunting a pack humans who made their way into Xadia. We were part of the party sent to track them down and eliminate them, but we were unable to locate their campsite. We did find two who had broken away from the group, however, and dispatched them. They were carrying with them this baby."

Alarm shot through Runaan. "That's a _human_ child?" he demanded.

"It is." Luthan looked towards his wife, his expression softening before he turned back to Runaan. "We couldn't kill him. We took him home instead and sought advice for what to do with him."

"We were instructed to throw him in a lake and let him drown," Jaluul cut in angrily. "We refused and stole him away. It is our intent to return him to the Katolis boarder and release him to the first humans we find. We know it will be dangerous, but––"

"That is a _human_ child!" Runaan interrupted furiously. "You are risking your lives and our treaty for the sake of filthy human spawn!"

"We are risking our lives to do what is right," Jaluul snarled back.

"Not on Moonshadow land, you're not." Runaan pulled the arrow back and pointed it directly at her. "Relinquish the child," he ordered. "I will return it to your people to be dealt with according to their laws."

For a moment, the two Earthbloods were silent. Luthan stepped before his wife and lifted his ax again. "You are just a lone scout against two armed hunters," he returned. "Do you really think you're in a position to order us about?"

Runaan lifted one finger from the handle of his bow. Instantly, Desha and Halash launched themselves from their posts to jump to the ground, their weapons drawn and ready. Runaan waited for them to straighten, then jumped down as well, his arrow aimed directly at Luthan.

"I won't ask you again," he said.

Jaluul and Luthan drew together as they reassessed the situation. They exchanged a signal look––and abruptly bust apart. Jaluul spun around to race for the tree line. At the same time, Luthan flung his ax towards Runaan, his other hand snapping to his thigh to whisk out three short knives that had been hidden by a flap of leather. The ax spun through the air and sailed over Runaan's shoulder to embed itself into the trunk of the tree Runaan had been waiting in. The three knives followed after, a trio of silver streaks cutting through the air towards him. Luthan had correctly guessed which direction Runaan would move; as Runaan ducked the ax, the knives hit their mark. One cut along Runaan's shoulder; another carved a deeper gash into his arm before ricocheting away. The third fell harmlessly to the side, bouncing against the grass to lie still.

In the same instant, Luthan collapsed, an arrow jutting out of one eye socket.

Further away, there was a thin cry of a child. Runaan darted around the fallen hunter to join Desha and Halash, who had both taken chase after the woman. Desha managed to tackle her; Jaluul kicked him away and drew her sword, only to have the blade kicked out of her hand by Halash. Jaluul rolled to retrieve it––and froze as Runaan slammed his heel against her chest to pin her to the ground. He nocked another arrow and pulled the bowstring taut as he aimed it for her neck. Desha and Halash joined him, one to either side, their own weapons poised for attack. Breathing heavily, Jaluul looked between them, then to her side. The infant was laying several paces away on the ground, its protective wrap rumpled beneath it as it cried and waved its tiny fists in the air.

Slowly, Runaan lifted his food and stepped back, though he kept his arrow steady upon her. "Get up," he ordered. "Go back the way you came. Do not return."

Jaluul looked past him. Her cheeks grew dark, and her eyes watered as she saw the body of her husband laying motionless on the ground in the clearing. Her gaze skipped to her sword laying too far out of reach, then slid back to the three weapons currently pointed at her. She seemed to realize she was outmatched. Swallowing thickly, she started to reach for the baby. Desha immediately sidestepped to block her.

"The child stays here," Runaan said.

Jaluul stared up at him––and with her face twisting in fury, she wrenched her leg up to slam her foot against his groin. With a startled grunt of agony, Runaan released his hold upon the arrow and collapsed to the ground. There was a flurry of activity around him. His eyes still watering, Runaan rolled himself to his knees, only to fall upon his palms as the wave of pain backlashed through him. He let his bow drop to his side, and drew one of his swords to unfold it shakily. It took a moment for him to reorient himself. As the stabbing pain dulled to a sharp ache, Runaan looked around alertly. Jaluul was laying on her back nearby, a crimson streak carved through her neck. Desha hurried to Runaan's side, gripping his shoulders to help him rise as Halash wiped her blade along Jaluul's thigh to clean it of blood. She glanced at Runaan, straightened, then scowled as she looked down at Jaluul.

"Dishonorable bitch!" Halash lifted her leg in preparation to kick the body, and Runaan shoved Desha aside to lurch towards her. As Halash's foot shot forward, he threw himself into its path to block it, and grunted again as it slammed into his stomach instead. Halash fell back with a gasp, her hand snapping to her mouth in horror. "Runaan! I––"

 _"Respect the dead!"_ Runaan pushed himself up with a wince, staggering as he forced himself to his feet. The lingering nausea of having his groin kicked churned against the slam to the gut that had promptly followed, and he bit back a groan of pain. "Search the bodies," he managed. Her face red, Halas immediately dropped back down to begin rifling through Jaluul's clothing and travel pack. Desha trotted back to the clearing to do the same with Luthan, and Runaan took a moment to steady himself before attempting to retrieve his fallen bow. "Earthbloods return themselves to the earth upon death," he said as he clipped his blade to his belt and drew the bow over his shoulder. "We will bury them according to Earthblood tradition and send a message to their people to inform them of what has transpired. We'll need to place a marker on their gravesite so they can be located."

Halash cast a distracted glance over her shoulder. Not far away, the human baby writhed and whined. "What of a child?" she asked.

Runaan looked down at the baby, and his expression hardened. "This _creature_ is the spawn of our enemies," he said. "As per the laws of our people, all humans caught infiltrating Xadia must be killed on sight."

Halas's eyes jumped to his. "Even the wee ones?"

There was a guilty expression on her face. Runaan regarded her silently, then looked over to the clearing. Desha seemed to be finishing up, though he kept casting worried glances over his shoulder at them. Runaan's lips thinned as he bent to scoop the child up. Wrapping the fabric back over its body, he straightened.

"Small humans grow into large humans," he said. "You've spent your whole life in Silvergrove. You've not seen the horrors of dark magic. You've not seen the way humans tear the very souls out of living creatures to gain but a few moments of power. This... _thing_ may very well be destined to take up arms and lead an army across the boarder from their lands into ours. We can't take that chance."

Halash looked unconvinced. She rose slowly and looked past Runaan as Desha walked over to join them, and Runaan shifted his grip on the child so he was only holding it by the wrappings. "Do you intend to transport the infant to Katolis yourself?" he asked sharply.

Halash and Desha looked at each other in surprise. "Of course not! But––"

"Then you must mean to raise it as your own." Runaan held the child out in silent challenge. The twins looked at it unhappily, then turned their eyes away. Nodding, Runaan lifted the child to let it rest against his injured shoulder. "We have but three options at our disposal," he said. "We can either return the child to the Earthbloods to be drowned, leave it here to die slowly of exposure, or end its misery right now as quickly and as cleanly as possible. What other option can you see?"

Neither twin spoke. Neither lifted their gaze. There was no defiance in their postures; only a grim acceptance as they deferred to Runaan's expertise.

_They're inexperienced._

Runaan let his demeanor soften. Assassins were charged with making difficult decisions and seeing them through to completion. By all rights, Runaan should have given the order for either Desha or Halash to end the child's life, and to take the last necessary step towards becoming a true assassin. But they weren't ready. Runaan would have to lead by example.

He pulled the child away to look down at it. Its face was scrunched and red, streaks of tears and dirt smudging its skin. Rayla had been this age, once. She had been so small. So vulnerable. He had held her to his chest and promised her that he would keep her safe. Had this child's family held it in the same way?

"It's good that you feel empathy towards your foes," he told the twins quietly. "Their hearts beat as ours do. They love and laugh and mourn just as deeply as us." His voice hardened. "But you can not forget that the protection of our people comes before any personal scruples we might have. When the time comes to finish a job, _you must not hesitate."_ Drawing his sword, Runaan crouched to lay the child on the ground.

And he brought the blade down.

**Author's note:**

In my defense, Runaan was canonically planning to murder little Ezran in the dead of night, so this isn't too far of a stretch. But yeah, this can't _possibly_ have consequences...

Anyway, I've got my final notes organized and sorted into chapter files, and the end is in sight! (Wow, only a few more chapters left...) Thank you everyone for all your lovely comments. I haven't said it in a while, but I really do appreciate them. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Three nights._

Ethari hunched over his work table, the fortune charm turning slowly in his fingers. It was a slightly irregular shape; Runaan was obviously as unskilled as the students he had been working alongside. The snake tails were too squared off, and the heads of the two serpents looked more like the tips of knives than the rounded wedges they were meant to be. Still, wobbly though the curvature was, the bodies had been bent into a shape that mostly resembled a heart. No one would look upon it and wonder what it was meant to be.

He sighed and leaned forward to lay his torso upon the table. One arm folded beneath his head, while his other hand stretched out to hold the charm at a distance. He still hadn't enchanted it. Every time he thought to do it, he found himself stalling. Ethari wanted to fix the tiny errors for Runaan. He wanted to leave it exactly as it was. He wanted to give it the luck enchantment he had promised, but he also wanted to place a more powerful enchantment upon it instead. He wanted to plate it in gold and encrust it with diamonds.

He wanted to throw it off a cliff.

Ethari turned his face into the crook of his arm and let out a soft, pained whine. Why did this have to be so difficult? It should have been an easy decision to make: leave the charm in its original state, place the basic luck enchantment on it, and have a messenger deliver it to Runaan's house. _Simple._ There was no need to procrastinate over what to do with it.

Ethari propped the charm up against the seam of the table and the wall and folded both arms beneath his chin to stare at it. Runaan had returned from a mission three nights ago. Ethari had half expected him to seek him out again, but Runaan had stayed clear of the smithy.

_He had to end a life,_ Tiadrin had confided in him when Ethari had brought it up. _Every time a mission ends in death, he locks himself in his house to reflect and process. It's best to leave him alone._

_Leave him alone._ Was that really wise? Ethari had never killed anyone before. And he didn't want to. He knew full well that the moment would be etched upon his memory forever. To know that the kill might be replayed in his nightmares...to keep seeing the last spark of life dim in someone's eyes, over and over again... How did Runaan do it? How did _any_ assassin do it?

_He must truly have a strong heart, to see death so often and not let it consume him._

Ethari reached out again to run his fingertip along the uneven edge of the charm. He had been angry over the way Runaan had brushed him off the night Ethari had gone to babysit Rayla. Now, he was just worried. Was this how it was going to be every time Ethari interacted with him? Constantly teetering between the desire to embrace him or to smack him upside the head? Forever wondering what he had done to earn Runaan's ire yet again?

A shadow fell upon the table. "You've been staring at that thing all morning," Faleth growled. "If you're not going to work, go home."

Ethari looked up at his mentor and sat back with a listless sigh. "Sorry, Faleth. I've got a lot on my mind." He picked up the charm and started to rise, only for Faleth to clamp a large hand upon his shoulder and push him back into his seat.

"Sit," Faleth ordered. He let go and moved away for a moment, returning with another chair. Plunking it down beside Ethari, he sat down and gestured to the charm half hidden in Ethari's grip. "Runaan made that one."

Ethari quickly closed his fingers around it to hide it from sight. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"Weren't you going to enchant it for him?"

Ethari didn't respond. Faleth settled himself more comfortably on his chair and hunched over to rest his forearms against his knees. "Not exactly subtle, is he," he mused. Ethari shot him a quick look of confusion, and Faleth chuckled. "You're really going to sit there and tell me you didn't notice him trying to get your attention the other night?" he asked wryly. "Looked to me like he favored you."

Ethari's gaze lowered to the charm. His lips thinned in a mirthless smile, and he pushed his chair back to stand. "Looks can be deceiving," he said as he tossed the charm upon the table. Faleth glanced at it as it clattered against the wood, and turned in his chair to watch his apprentice walk away.

"I suppose you're right," he said as Ethari reached the arches of the smithy. "Runaan has a pretty face, but he lacks a heart to match. You'd have been a poor match."

Ethari halted at the arches. His shoulders tensed as a sudden anger washed through him, and his fingers curled to fists as he spun around to face Faleth. "Runaan doesn't have an ugly heart!" he shot back. "And there's more to him than just a pretty face. He's smart, and he's dedicated, and he takes pride in everything he does." Ethari advanced across the smithy to stand before Faleth again, his jaw set tightly as he leveled a look of challenge upon the master blacksmith. "He'd give his life if it meant protecting his people," he continued hotly, "and he wouldn't think twice about doing it. Runaan expects the best of himself. And he expects the best of everyone else, too. Even when he criticizes you, he gives you advice on how to be better. It's easy to miss, but he has a good heart, and––and––"

The heat suddenly drained out of him. Ethari's shoulders slumped, and he dropped back into his chair with a defeated sigh. "And you were right," he finished quietly. "You warned me not to get attached. I didn't listen."

A faint smile rose to the corner of Faleth's lips as he listened to Ethari's immediate defense of Runaan. He laid his hand upon Ethari's shoulder again and leaned closer. "This may shock you to learn," he said, "but I was a young man once myself. I've had my share of heartache, and I can tell you right now that this sort of crap doesn't get easier as you get older." His grip tightened. "Men like us are forged in fire, Ethari. We are tempered with hardship, and each blow of the hammer only serves to make us stronger. Things didn't work out this time. So what? Reflect upon what went wrong, learn from your mistakes, and be more aware the next time you find someone to swoon over. And there'll be a next time, you mark my words. You're too young to be sitting here obsessing over one missed opportunity. Pull yourself up, slap yourself across the face, and get over it. You'll be fine."

He gave Ethari's shoulder a hard pat and pushed himself to his feet. Without another word, he crossed the smithy to return to the forge and began setting up a sheet of plate metal. Ethari watched him for several moments, then twisted to look back at the table. The heart-shaped charm was still laying where he had tossed it.

_It didn't work out,_ Ethari thought glumly. _Faleth's right. I can't keep dwelling on it. I need to let it go._

He picked up the charm and tucked it into a drawer to work on later, then rose to stretch. There was no point in staying any longer. He was unfocused. He'd go home early, take the rest of the night to relax, and start fresh tomorrow.

"I'm heading out," Ethari said as he started back towards the arches. "Thanks, Faleth."

"Mind what I said, lad. Let your problems make you strong."

Ethari waved him off and left the smithy. It was nearing midnight; on the level below, he could hear the soft murmur of many voices as the residents of Silvegrove went about their errands. Ethari didn't really need to do anything, but maybe chatting o a few people and catching up with them would help to distract him.

There was a rustle in the braches of a tree overhead. Ethari paused and looked up to squint into the leaves. Nothing. Frowning, Ethari turned slowly to look behind himself. The street was empty. And it was quiet. A chill rippled its way along Ethari's spine as a sudden alertness swept through him. Though he was alone on the road, he had the distinct impression that he was being watched. Ethari turned again––and with a near-soundless thump, Runaan dropped out of the tree to land nimbly in front of him.

Ethari jerked back, startled. "Runaan! What––"

"Come with me."

Runaan turned and walked away without waiting for an answer. Eyes wide, Ethari looked around again, then set off after him. "Where are we going?" he asked. "Why––"

"Just follow me." Runaan said shortly.

Ethari followed him.

Runaan led him away from the main streets and down a series of side paths that took them towards the edge of the Moonshadow Elf settlement, where Ethari could see the tell-tale shimmer of the protective enchantment that shielded Silvergrove from outside eyes. Before he could ask if they were leaving Silvergrove, Runaan took a sudden turn towards the mountainside––and disappeared into it.

"Runaan!" Ethari trotted forward to close the distance between them and hurried to stand where he had last seen the assassin. There, he paused, his brows knitting together at the cluster of vines and moss Runaan had disappeared into. Barely visible behind the leaves, he could see a thin crevice cut into the mountainside, just wide enough for someone to walk into. Runaan was already several paces in. He paused to look over his shoulder and gestured for Ethari to follow him. 

Ethari didn't move.

"What's back there?"

"Someplace private. I've found that the direct approach is often the fastest way to deal with a problem, and I'd rather not have witnesses for it."

_Deal with a problem? No witnesses?_ Ethari's eyes widened, and he took a step backwards as he abruptly recalled the expression Runaan had been wearing when they had bumped into each other three nights earlier: furious, accusatory...almost as though Runaan hated him. "Are you taking me back there to _kill_ me?" Ethari asked without thinking.

Runaan halted. He looked over his shoulder again, his expression drawn and shadowed. "If you really think I'd plot to kill you," he replied quietly, "then don't follow me." He turned and continued onward, and soon disappeared around a curve in the crevice. Ethari hesitated. He rubbed his arm, tilted his head up to look up the mountain, then looked around to see if anyone was watching them. They were even more alone than they had been before.

_Well, if he wanted to kill me, I guess he could have done it out here._

Ethari took a deep breath. With a grimace of anticipation, he stepped forward. The crevice had been wide enough for Runaan to ease through, but Ethari's shoulders were much broader than his. He turned sideways and sucked in his stomach, shimmying his way through the crevice and trying not to think about how many people it would take to chip the rocks away if he got stuck between them. The crevice curved to the left, then opened abruptly. Ethari popped free with a sigh of relief and straightened to look around. Immediately, his jaw dropped. The space they were standing in was a secluded oasis hidden in the mountain. Lush grass covered a gently rounded clearing, dotted with mossy stones and pale flowers. Luminescent moths flitted about, their wings leaving trails of shimmering dust as they danced from one rock to another. Towards the back of the clearing, water trickled steadily down the mountainside, tumbling over the uneven rocks to collect in a small pool, then burbling away along a thin stream to disappear into a natural drainage hole that was split into the stones nearby. Tiny glow bugs bobbed slowly over the stream, and a dulcet orchestra of insects chirped and chattered within the foliage.

Ethari took it all in with his breath trapped within his lungs. When he finally remembered to breath, he turned an awestruck gaze upon Runaan. "What is this place?"

Runaan was standing beside one of the larger rocks, his arms folded almost defensively across his abdomen. "Just a secluded spot few people know of," he said. "I sometimes come here to meditate."

"It's beautiful." Ethari looked around again, still taken aback by the secret treasure that had been hiding in the mountain he had lived beside his entire life. With a slow shake of his head, he looked back at Runaan. "Why have you brought me here?"

Runaan's expression was hard to read. He was avoiding eye contact, his jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a straight line. _He looks tired,_ Ethari thought distantly. There were dark smudges beneath Runaan's eyes, and a weariness shadowed his face in a way Ethari had never seen before. Ethari thought back to what Tiadrin had told him a few nights earlier. Maybe Runaan wasn't handling the mission as well as Ethari had thought he would. Maybe he had come here to ask for advice of some sort, or to confide some kind of secret.

Runaan's fingers fluttered against his forearms for a moment before he let his hands drop to his sides. Almost immediately, he folded them behind his back. His stance shifted to one of stern attention, his gaze locking onto Ethari's and his chin lifting in near defiance as he took a breath to fortify himself. "It has come to my attention that you recently indicated a desire to know me more intimately," he said briskly. "I somehow failed to understand your intentions, and inadvertently indicated to you that I was not interested in continuing our association. I have brought you here to clarify my intentions."

Ethari stared at him. He could see the muscles in Runaan's arms tensing, could see the sudden stillness of his chest and the focused intensity in his eyes. As Runaan's lips parted to speak again, realization began to dawn upon Ethari. Runaan wasn't saying what Ethari _thought_ he was saying...was he?

"Runaan," he started hesitantly, "are you––"

"Stop," Runaan said sharply. "This is already difficult. I had a whole speech prepared, and I've already forgotten most of it." He paused, his gaze lowering as he thought for a few seconds. "Life is fleeting" he said suddenly. "At any moment, it could end, which means every moment we experience is precious. Every moment we waste misunderstanding each other is a moment of closeness we lose forever. So I'm...I've..." He faltered, and a faint redness began to creep along his cheeks. "I would like to formally convey my desire to..."

He suddenly cut himself off with a curse and spun around to duck behind the rock. He bent to grab something from the grass, then straightened to stalk over to Ethari. "Here," he snapped. "This is for you."

He shoved something against Ethari's chest, and Ethari automatically lifted his hands to accept it. It was a wooden carving of a lotus flower, its petals flared in several concentric rings, each one painted in shades of white and pink.

"I did not carve it," Runaan continued, "but I took pains to paint it properly. It's...you once gave me a similar flower," he added in a softer tone. "I still have it. And I hope that it continues to grow and thrive for a long time. I'm..." His hands bobbed in the air as he sought to articulate his thoughts, and his gaze fixed upon the wooden flower. "I've been a solitary individual for a long time, Ethari. And I preferred it that way. No distractions. No complications. No reason to depend upon anyone but myself." His eyes rose to Ethari's. "And then I met you. You've distracted me. You've made things complicated. And you've..." Runaan took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, he sounded almost irritated. "You make me want to depend on someone other than myself," he admitted. "Someone who can lend me his strength when I'm at my weakest. Someone who can make my life brighter simply by standing at my side. You're a remarkable individual, Ethari, and I––"

Ethari seized the collar of Runaan's tunic, yanked him closer, and covered his lips with his own.

_"Mmph!"_ Runaan stiffened at the sudden contact. His hand darted up to grip Ethari's arms, then loosened. His body relaxed, and his lips parted as he melted into the kiss. For a long moment, they were silent, saying everything and nothing all at once until Ethari finally pulled away with a wry smile.

"You're bad with words, Runaan," he murmured. "If you want to kiss me, just do it."

Runaan stared at him, his lips still parted and his eyes slightly glazed. One hand stole up to press lightly against Ethari's cheek. His fingers traced their way along his jaw, his nose, then his chin. And without a word, he leaned forward to capture Ethari's lips again.

The wooden flower fell forgotten to the grass. Ethari curled his arms around Runaan's lithe body and held him tightly. He could feel Runaan's body heat warming him through their clothes, could feel the strong beat of Runaan's heart pulsing against his chest and the tightening of Runaan's fingers against his shoulders. They melded together seamlessly, _perfectly,_ as though they had always been meant to be like this.

_I want him,_ Ethari thought distractedly as he swept his hands up to grip Runaan' hair. _I need him. Moon have mercy...what if I love him? Is this what it feels like? Is that what this is?_

The thought was terrifying––and intoxicating. Ethari pressed closer to him, forcing Runaan to backpedal as they stumbled over the grass to slam against the mountainside. Runaan grunted in discomfort, but held Ethari tightly to keep him from pulling away. The kiss was growing more heated, now, their touches more frantic, more desperate. Ethari kept Runaan pinned against the rock face, one knee knocking between Runaan's thighs to force them apart as Runaan's hand dropped to his belt and began to tug upon it. With a deep groan of desire, Ethari rolled his hips forward to grind against him, and Runaan's hands immediately flitted over his hips to close around his backside.

_This isn't happening,_ Ethari thought as heat rushed to pool between his legs. _Please, let this be real. I won't be able to handle it if he snatches the moment away from me. Please, Runaan...please..._

He could feel a slow pressure hardening against his thigh. Ethari couldn't keep himself from running his hands down Runaan's arms, then up along his chest, his fingers gripping the fabric of Runaan's tunic to wrench it upwards and away before dropping to run along the smooth skin of Runaan's chest. This had to be some kind of obsessive fever dream. Runaan wasn't really here. Just three nights ago, he was shoving Ethari away, glaring at him like they were the worst of enemies, refusing to even respond to a simple greeting. Now...

Ethari swept his palms beneath Runaan's thighs and lifted. Runaan jerked upwards, his legs circling around Ethari's waist and clamping there as he curled forward to brace himself against Ethari's body. Their lips broke apart, and Ethari locked them instead around the hard nub of one rosy nipple. He felt an answering nip at his ear; Runaan's breath warmed his skin as his tongue glided along the smooth cartilage. A new surge of desire rolled through Ethari, and he stumbled backwards to carry Runaan over to the rock. As he rested Runaan against it, he pulled away to look at him, to _see_ him, to verify that this moment really was happening.

Runaan was panting heavily. He settled himself against the rock, one leg lifting to run along Ethari's thigh as his hands caressed the sides of Ethari's neck. "Ethari," he whispered. "Tell me you want this. Let me hear you say it."

Ethari pressed his palms to the stone on either side of Runaan's hips and pressed against him. "You've lost your damned mind if you think I _don't_ want it," he growled. He started to lean in for another kiss, and Runaan's hand jumped up to press against his lips.

"No misunderstandings," he insisted. "I need to know for sure. Is this just a fleeting desire, or do you actually want to be with me?"

Ethari took Runaan's hand and held it gently, his thumb gently caressing Runaan's knuckles. "I want to be with you," he replied." He leaned closer, and his voice grew deeper as desire crept into it. "And I want to be _inside_ of you," he murmured. "And if that's what you want––"

"More than anything."

Their lips met again. Ethari ran his palm along Runaan's thigh and hiked it higher against his own. As they pressed together again, Runaan's fingers curled against Ethari's belt again to tug at the fastenings.

And for a long time, they said nothing at all.

Afterwards, with their clothing strewn across the clearing and their bodies cooling against the lush grass beneath them, Runaan and Ethari laid against one another to catch their breath. Ethari stretched out upon his back, his eyes closed as he tilted his face up towards the moon to gather his thoughts. Beside him, Runaan curled against his side, one arm slung across Ethari's broad chest as he nuzzled his face against Ethari's neck. Ethari tilted his head to rest his cheek against the top of Runaan's head. It was so peaceful, here. He didn't ever want to leave.

He tilted his head a little more to bury his nose in the mussed strands of Runaan's hair and inhaled deeply. Why did Runaan have to smell so good? Like grass and wood and leather mixed with the faint undertone of fine spices and metal polish. Ethari lifted his hand to run his fingers through the long tail of hair draped over Runaan's shoulder. Over the course of the past hour, the braid hand come undone, allowing Ethari's fingers to slip effortlessly through the silken tresses. It was just as soft as he though it would be.

"Well," he finally sighed. "I can honestly say that I wasn't expecting any of this when you ambushed me in the middle of an empty street and lured me into a secret hidey-hole. I was beginning to think you didn't want to be around me anymore. What changed your mind?"

"You did," Runaan mumbled against his neck. "After our date."

Ethari's brows darted high in surprise. "But I thought––"

"I was stupid. I didn't see what you were offering."

Runaan's fingers slid along Ethari's chest to settle along his collar bone. His fingers traced along the hard line, then settled at the dip in the center, and with a soft chuckle, Ethari covered Runaan's hand with his own.

"Really?" he said wryly. "I thought I was pretty clear about it."

Runaan huffed out a sigh. "Not your proposition," he said. "Though I missed that, too. I meant I didn't see _you._ Who you were. What you could be. I didn't see it. Not until after you left."

Ethari curled his fingers to claps Runaan's. "So when you came to the smithy asking all those questions afterwards..."

Another huff, this one of faintly amused annoyance. "I was trying to give you the chance to follow the appropriate courtship protocol. It was your turn to convey a token of affection. I got tired of waiting."

Ethari smiled and pressed a kiss against Runaan's forehead. "We're both idiots, then."

"We figured it out."

They fell quiet again. There didn't seem to be a need to speak. Runaan slid his leg over Ethari's thigh and resettled himself so that he could press his lips against Ethari's jawline, giving it a gentle nip before he ducked his face against Ethari's ear. The gesture was surprisingly intimate; it wasn't lost on Ethari just how vulnerable Runaan was making himself.

It still seemed so surreal.

Ethari ran his fingers along the cold length of one of Runaan's horns before lowering his hand to cup the nape of his neck. "I'm glad you didn't give up, Runaan," he said quietly. "I was closer to it than I care to admit. "

"I know."

The response was low and soft...and oddly emotionless. Ethari's brows furrowed. He shifted to turn slightly and studied Runaan's face. As open as his desire had been only minutes ago, his expression now was closed and cool.

Something didn't seem quite right.

"Are you all right, Runaan?" Ethari asked.

There was a flicker of a smile at the corner of Runaan's lips. "I'm feeling remarkably good right now, actually. And I have you to think for it."

"Not that." Ethari shifted again, this time rising enough to prop himself up upon his elbow. "Tiadrin mentioned you had a difficult mission recently. Did you––"

"I don't want to talk about it."

The response was swift and flat. Runaan pulled his arm away and rolled to lay upon his back, and Ethari pushed himself into a seated position to stare down at him in concern. "Are you sure?" he pressed. " I think we've passed beyond keeping secrets, Runaan. You can tell me anything."

Runaan sighed heavily and sat up to drape his arms over his knees. "There are some things I don't like to talk about, Ethari," he said. "What I do is..." He paused, then shook his head. "It's not something I want to bring into my personal life."

Ethari's gaze skipped over Runaan's body. He had seen the recent gash at his shoulder, already partially healed. There were other scars marring his skin, though. Older scars, large and small. The elegant whorls of Runaan's markings obscured a few; others seemed interwoven with the design. Ethari could only imagine the sorts of things Runaan had been though. "All right," he said quietly. "I..."

_I what? I love you?_

Ethari bit the words back. It was too soon for that. "I'm here for you," he said instead. Another smile rose to Runaan's lips, and he lifted his hand to hide it. Ethari reached out to rest his fingers against Runaan's wrist. "Why do you keep doing that?" he asked. "You keep hiding your smiles and stifling your laughter. Why?"

Runaan's smile faded, and he dropped his hand back to his knee. "It's important that I be taken seriously."

Ethari let out a light laugh. "You don't need to bury all your emotions to be taken seriously, Runaan. It's okay to show when you're happy."

Runaan didn't look convinced. Grinning, Ethari leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Hiding your smile makes you look shy," he teased.

The reaction was immediate. Runaan's face snapped towards him, an affronted expression darkening his features. "It most certainly does not!" he objected.

"It does," Ethari insisted. "Like a bashful little girl trying not to giggle."

Runaan gaped at him, his mouth working silently as he groped for a response. "Need I remind you that I'm a professional assassin who stabs people on a regular basis?" he finally managed, and Ethari took the opportunity to leer at him.

"Are you threatening to impale me? I think I'd rather enjoy that."

Confusion flickered across Runaan's face before settling into an exasperated look of understanding. "You're insatiable."

"You have no idea."

Runaan's lips twisted. His hand rose towards them again, then quickly arched past them to run along his hair instead. With a satisfied sigh, he looked away to turn his gaze upwards. "I didn't plan any of this ," he said after a moment. "The best I expected was to have a chance to declare my affection, offer you a few gifts, and arrange for a second date. This was...a _very_ pleasant surprise. Thank you, Ethari."

Ethari waggled his brows. "Gifts?" he mused. "Plural? What else do I get?" The smile vanished. A red flush began to darken Runaan's neck, and Ethari brightened. "Moon above. Please tell me it's a potato."

Runaan let out a short laugh. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Of course not. Potatoes are forever, remember?" Ethari flicked out his hand to tap Runaan's shoulder with the back of his wrist. "So what's the gift?" He waited for a moment, and as the red flush began to rise along Runaan's cheeks, Ethari's eyes widened in realization. "It _is_ a potato!" Excitement washed through him, and he twisted around to look across the disarray they had left of the clearing. "Where'd you hide it? Is it hideous?"

"Of _course_ it's hideous," Runaan retorted. "There'd be no point if it weren't. Here––" He shoved himself up and walked behind the large stone to collect something. When he returned, it was with a basket. He dropped it beside Ethari's knees, and Ethari looked down at it curiously, his brows drawing together at the collection of fruits packed within it.

"A fruit basket?"

"I thought you'd take it home and..." Runaan paused, then sighed and turned away to being gathering his clothing. "Just take it."

Ethari picked up the basket. Take it home and what? He cocked his head in consideration, and a slow smile warmed his lips as an idea struck him. Without hesitation, he turned the basket upside down to dump out it's contents. Sure enough, a potato tumbled out after the assorted fruits, dark and dusty and misshapen. Ethari dropped the basket to snatch it up and held it reverently to his chest. "This potato shall hold a place of honor on my mantel for years to come," he promised formally. As Runaan cast him an odd look, Ethari granted him a crooked grin. "Or until I get hungry."

Runaan snorted and began to draw on his pants. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

"Do you need ideas? Because I've got a few."

The sly suggestion earned him a laugh as Runaan flung Ethari's shirt at him. "Get dressed. We can't stay here all night."

Beaming brightly, Ethari stood to being hunting down the clothing he had flung in every direction earlier. For a few minutes, they dressed quietly. Ethari packed the fruits back into the basket and looked around for the wooden lotus carving., and as he picked it up, Runaan cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"So..." he began in a cautious tone as Ethari straightened. "Would you like to spend the day in my home?"

Ethari looked at him in surprise, then smiled as he realized what Runaan was asking for. "Mine's closer," he said.

Runaan relaxed, and an answering smile warmed his lips. "If you insist."

"I do."

Ethari set the basket down and walked over to Runaan. His hand slid along his shoulders as he leaned closer; Runaan lifted his chin, his lips parting expectantly as Ethari's face neared his own. Tempting through the silent invitation was, Ethari tilted his head to press his cheek against Runaan's instead, his arms curling around him in a tight embrace. For a moment, Runaan only stood there, confused by the gesture. Then, slowly, his arms rose to curl around Ethari's waist and tightened. This felt right, Ethari thought. It felt _natural._ Holding Runaan like this...knowing how difficult it was for him to let his guard down so much...

_He chose me._

_And I choose him back._

They held each other for several moments until Runaan finally pulled away. He didn't say anything, but his expression was warm and open, his eyes filled with a quiet wonder as he searched Ethari's face. With a gentle smile, Ethari stepped back and held out his hand. Runaan stared down at it. His own hand twitched, rose, hesitated...and finally extended to accept the offer. With Runaan's hand held tightly in his own, Ethari picked up the basket and led the way towards the crevice.

Nothing would ever ruin this this moment.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Runaan woke to the sound of something sizzling and the scent of fresh food.

His slit his eyes open, his body tensing as his senses flared to assess his surroundings. Different bed. Different sheets. Even the feeling of the air itself seemed somehow distorted. This wasn't his bed.

Memories filtered through his mind: warm arms, tender kisses, soft laughter. Relaxing, Runaan rolled slowly to look over his shoulder. _Ethari's house._ This was the loft, where Ethari's oversized bed overlooked the main room of his home. It wasn't a large space; aside from the wardrobe, a chair, a storage trunk, and the bed itself, the loft held nothing else. A wooden railing separated it from the sudden drop to the first floor, and a set of stairs built into the wall led the way down.

Quietly, Runaan propped himself up on his elbow, allowing the sheets to fall from his shoulder with a soft hiss. Through the bars of the railing, he could see movement below. Ethari, dressed only in the loose trews he had worn to bed, was moving around in front of his hearth. He hovered over a frying pan, a flat wooden spatula bobbing in his grip as he poked and prodded its contents. After a few moments, he tossed the spatula onto the counter and knelt down and peer into the holes of the stove built into the hearth's side. He cocked his head, hummed thoughtfully, then straightened and started to dig abound in a box of utensils. Runaan smiled as he watched him. There was something oddly comforting about seeing Ethari preparing a meal.

_I didn't wake up when he left the bed._

The sudden realization was jarring. Runaan had always been a light sleeper, and had trained himself to snap to full alertness when something disturbed is sleep. He should have felt Ethari getting out of bed, should have heard him walking down the steps and taking out dishes. How had Runaan slept through it all?

Maybe it was because he had been so tired.

Or maybe it was because he had felt safe.

Ethari picked up a heavy glove and thrust his hand into it, then bent again to ease a tray out of the oven. He set it upon the counter and reached out with his free hand to touch one of the round golden spheres laid atop it––and immediately snatched his hand back with a hiss and a curse. Jamming his fingers into his mouth, he flapped his other hand to free of the glove and grabbed a utensil to flip the spheres over.

_Blacksmithing tongs._

Runaan's lips split in a grin as he watched Ethari use the heavy duty tongs to gently transfer the spheres into a bowl _._ A laugh escaped him, and Ethari shot his gaze upwards with a sheepish smile.

"Finally awake, then?" he called up cheerfully. "Are you hungry? I've made sausage rolls and rice cakes. And fruit, of course." He used the tongs to gesture to a bowl filled with brightly colored cubes. Runaan could see the basket he had given Ethari the night before laying nearby. It was empty.

"No potatoes?" he called back down.

"What, and ruin my new trophy?" Ethari gestured again, this time to the mantle above the hearth. There, propped up upon an overturned bowl, was the potato Runaan had given him.

This time, Runaan didn't even try to hold his laughter back. He pushed the sheets away and swung his legs over the side of the bed. As his bare feet touched the floor, he paused to absorb the reality of his situation. He had spent the day with Ethari. Slept beside him. Woke in his home, to meal prepared for him. Ethari's scent still clung to him. His touch still lingered on his skin. Runaan could still feel the brush of Ethari's lips against his neck, and the firm grip of his fingers upon his waist.

Runaan pushed himself up slowly as he recalled the pressure of Ethari's arms around him as they had embraced in the hidden glade. Tight and gentle at the same time. Warm and encompassing. A silent promise of unity. Runaan hadn't realized just how much he had needed to be held.

It had been difficult to let go.

He gathered the clothes he had left folded beside the bed and drew on his pants before and walking down the stairs. As he set the pile upon one of the chairs tucked under the table, a moment of uncertainty struck him. He felt happy. He _wanted_ this. But was it wise? Runaan had spent years striving to be the best assassin he could be––to be hard and cold and relentless in his efforts to keep his people safe. Everything he had ever been taught warned him away from opening his heart to anyone. Emotional investments were exploitable. Assassins couldn't afford to let such emotions influence them.

Unbidden, Mora's warning rose in his memory. _"The more people you care about, the more weaknesses you'll have. An enemy will always target those who are closest to your heart."_

Runaan's fists tightened. He would never let an enemy get close enough to Ethari to hurt _either_ of them.

"Over here, Runaan!" Over by the counter, Ethari held out an empty plate in offering. "Take as much as you like. No, don't look––" Ethari sidestepped and spread his arms as Runaan's gaze drifted to the series of used dishes stacked on the far end of the counter. "I'll clean those up later. I promise."

With a soft chuckle, Runaan crossed the room to accept the plate and turned his attention to the food waiting to be eaten. There was a plate of flat rice cakes. A bowl of diced fruit. Another bowl filled with the steaming golden spheres. Those must have been the sausage rolls. Runaan inhaled deeply. Everything smelled good. Hadn't Lain told him that Ethari enjoyed cooking? Runaan would never have guessed it, based on the last time he had been here. There had barely been a walkable path into the house, much less to the hearth!

He looked around in mild approval as he picked up a spoon to begin serving himself the fruit. Ethari had been doing a good job of keeping his home clean. Sure there were a few messes; a scarf flung carelessly across the back of a chair, a handful of nails and a hammer laying on the table, items crammed haphazardly into shelves instead of being put in their proper places...

Still, it looked nice.

Runaan selected a few rice cakes and stepped back to allow Ethari to do the same.

"That's it?" Ethari asked as he cast a quick glance at Runaan's plate. "Here, take a few of these." He started to pick up a sausage roll, and Runaan quickly moved his plate out of reach.

"No, thank you," he said politely.

Ethari slowly lowered the roll back into the bowl, his brows drawing together as he shifted his gaze to Runaan's face. "Do you not like them?" he asked worriedly. "I can make something else––"

"Don't worry about it, Ethari," Runaan interrupted. "What I have is fine." Ethari continued to stare at him, and Runaan sighed in resignation. "I...generally prefer not to eat things that used to have a heartbeat," he admitted.

"...Oh."

Ethari looked down at the rolls in dismay. Guilt washed through Runaan, and he stepped back to the counter to reach for the bowl. "But a noble creature has scarified its life to help extend our own," he continued. "Best not to waste it."

"Runaan, you don't have to–– "

Runaan plunked two rolls onto his plate and walked away. "Come to the table, Ethari," he said. "I'm not standing around like a heathen while I eat."

He moved to the table and sat down. _I haven't scrubbed my teeth yet,_ he thought as he cut the rice cakes into smaller pieces. _I'll need to do that as soon as I get home, unless Ethari has a spare brush he could lend me. I wonder if he would allow me to bring one over to keep here?_

His knife stilled above his plate at the thought. Was he really planning to make a habit of waking up in Ethari's house? He had never been in this kind of relationship, before. How far did he want to take it?

Ethari sat next to Runaan along the side of the table. For a few quiet moments, Runaan continued to eat, only to pause as he realized that Ethari wasn't doing the same. Glancing up, he saw Ethari sitting with his elbow upon the table and his chin resting upon his knuckles. He was gazing at Runaan with a lazy smile and his eyes half lidded, apparently content to watch him chew. Runaan straightened self-consciously.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

Ethari shrugged. "I don't know. It just makes me happy. Seeing you looking so relaxed, no shirt, hair a mess..." His smile widened. "You're beautiful, Runaan."

Runaan snorted and absently smoothed his hair. "So that's why you like me," he muttered.

"That's not––I mean, yeah, that's what got my attention," Ethari admitted, "but it's not what _kept_ it. You're confident, and you're dedicated, and...I don't know. You _challenge_ me. I like that."

Runaan hummed, and Ethari folded his arms upon the table. "What, would you rather I say you have cute horns and a tight ass?" he teased. "Because I won't lie, that's crossed my mind more than once."

Runaan coughed and quickly hid his grin behind his fingers, and Ethari immediately reached over to pull his hand down. "Not this time," he said fondly. "I'm not letting you hide it anymore, Runaan. You're allowed to be happy." As Runaan obligingly lowered his hand to the table, Ethari turned his attention to his own meal. "Your turn," he said as he stabbed a sausage roll and bit into it. "What is it that made you want me?"

"You're...warm."

Ethari chewed thoughtfully and waited for Runaan to elaborate. When Runaan said nothing else, Ethari waved his half-eaten sausage roll in confusion. "What, that's it?"

Runaan pushed a few pieces of fruit around his plate. "I don't have a lot of warmth in my life," he said quietly. He started to say something else, then fell silent, his cheeks growing warm as the urge to be honest warred against his deep-rooted desire to keep his feelings buried within him.

Ethari seemed to sense the conflict. He lowered the sausage roll to his plate and leaned to see Runaan's face better. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No."

Ethari shoved his plate aside, grabbed the sides of his chair, and shuffled closer to Runaan before dropping back into his seat. "Tell me," he urged. "No secrets, Runaan. I trust you. And I need you to trust me back."

Runaan drew in a deep breath. He lifted his gaze to the loft, then let it drift around the interior of the house. It was strange; he felt as though he had lived here his whole life.

_But I've only bee here twice._

He shifted his attention to Ethari, who continued to stare at him with a concerned expression.

_Such a caring person. He worries for me._

_But he barely knows me._

Runaan looked down at his plate and took a deep breath. What he wanted and what he _needed_ weren't always the same thing. If this relationship was going to work, he would have to speak his thoughts plainly. "When people rush," he said carefully, "they make mistakes. I don't want to make any more mistakes with you."

Ethari's brows furrowed. "You think we're rushing things?" he asked.

"We had one date," Runaan reminded him. "And now we're sleeping together."

"I mean...yeah, but..." Ethari faltered. He folded his arms upon the table and hunched over them for a moment, then sat back with a resigned nod. "Sure," he sighed. "Maybe we got overly excited abut things. We can slow it down."

"Thank you."

Runaan pushed away from the table and reached down to gather his boots. As he fastened them over his calves, Ethari reached over to help himself to one of the uneaten sausage rolls and watched Runaan with an uncertain gaze.

"Are you regretting what we did?" he asked.

Runaan's head jerked up. "Of course not!" he exclaimed. "Moon have mercy, Ethari, I _needed_ that!" He arched a brow meaningfully. "And so did you, judging by the way you nearly mauled me."

With a low chuckle, Ethari bit into the roll. "I had a lot of pent-up frustration," he said as he chewed. "You have no idea what you were doing to me, Runaan. You had me so worked up, I was ready to explode."

"You kind of did."

Ethari snorted, then choked as he inhaled a piece of the roll. He pounded his fist against the table, then against his chest, and finally sat back with a raspy laugh as he caught his breath. Shoving away from the table, he circled Runaan's chair and leaned over his back. As his muscular arms folded around Runaan's shoulders to lock at his chest, a feeling of pride washed over Runaan. Ethari had chosen _him._ He could have had anyone he wanted, and he had chosen Runaan.

Ethari nuzzled Runaan's cheek and huffed a warm breath against his ear. With a shiver of pleasure, Runaan slid his fingertips over Ethari's forearms and gave them a squeeze of reassurance. _Ethari is affectionate,_ he thought fondly. _He'll expect the same of me._

_I'll need to work on that._

Ethari flexed his muscles around him, then pulled back to begin combing his fingers through Runaan's hair. The gentle scrape of his fingertips sent another shiver through him. Runaan leaned his head back against Ethari's abdomen and closed his eyes, reveling in what felt to him like an intimate caress. _No one_ touched his hair, not even to trim it. Runaan had always done it himself.

_What would it feel like to let him wash it for me?_

Ethari circled his fingers around the base of Runaan's horns, and he leaned down to press his nose against Runaan's hair. "You smell good," he murmured.

Runaan chuckled. "I smell like you," he replied wryly.

"I know. That's why I like it." Ethari inhaled again, then tilted his face to press a kiss to Runaan's ear tip before letting his hands smooth their way down the sides of Runaan's neck. "I want to have you again," he said, his voice dropping to a near growl. "I want everyone else to smell me on you, too. I want them to know _exactly_ what we've been doing."

Heat simultaneously rose to Runaan's cheeks and plunged between his legs. Ethari's unexpected possessiveness was thrilling...but at the same time, Runaan wasn't ready to flaunt their relationship throughout Silvergrove. What he did in private was meant to _stay_ private. It really wasn't anyone else's business.

Ethari's lips were on his neck, now. Runaan couldn't keep himself from tilting his head to allow him more access, couldn't bite back the low moan that grated from his throat nor quell the rush of desire already rousing his body.

_Didn't I just tell him to slow down?_

Ethari's teeth scraped along the base of Runaan's collar, his palms pressing firmly down Runaan's arms. Runaan's heart was already beating faster, his breath growing quick and shallow. He wanted this. He wanted to reciprocate.

But he wanted to know Ethari, first.

Runaan took hold of Ethari's wrists and pulled them away, bending forward to break free of the embrace. "Enough," he whispered.

Ethari's arms stiffened. He pulled his arms back and gripped the back of Runaan's chair instead, panting as he sought to reign in his desire. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Forgot." He sighed heavily. "Damn, this is hard..."

"I know. That's the problem."

Ethari broke into an appreciative laugh. "Okay, that's not helping at all." He grabbed the tip of Runaan's horn and tweaked it playfully, forcing Runaan's head to dip to the side. As he let go, he gave Runaan's shoulder a pat, and Runaan chuckled in relief. Curling his fingers around the seat of his chair, he watched Ethari walk away. Ethari raised his hands to his face to rub his eyes, then arched his back and swept his palms over his head with another sigh. The movement sent a ripple along the defined muscles of his arms and back. Runaan stared at them, then forced himself to look away. This wasn't going to be easy for him, either.

_It's better this way,_ he told himself. _If we move too fast, our passions will burn out before we've had a chance to establish a true connection. I don't want to risk that. I won't give myself to him simply for the sake of quick release. If I'm going to be with anyone, it needs to have meaning._

_...Moon above, I want to feel him again..._

Runaan shook out his tunic and drew it on. The fewer opportunities for skin-to-skin contact, the better.

"Oh––" Ethari suddenly turned around to cross the room towards a door beneath the loft. "Nearly forgot. I have something for you."

Runaan stood and tugged his tunic into place as he watched Ethari curiously. "More gifts?" he wondered. "That really isn't necessary."

"Not exactly a gift," came Ethari's voice from the other room. "More like a promise." There was a scrapping sound, a clang, then the familiar metallic tink of a blade hitting wood. A moment later, Ethari emerged with a pair of sweeping silver swords.

"What's this?" Runaan held out as hand as Ethari offered both swords to him. They had a good weight to them; light but solid, and perfectly balanced. The blades themselves were sharp and sleek, the handles curved and articulated with a series of hooks and runes.

"I call it a bow-blade," Ethari said proudly. "I told you I'd be working on it this week. Look––" He took the swords back. With an effortless flourish, he snapped the handles together and locked them into place. The runes flared, and a thin beam of light arched from one sword tip to the other. "It's just the prototype," he added as the light dimmed to reveal a taut string. "I'll need to give it a test run and make a few modifications, and then I'll pretty it up and make a better version. What do you think?"

Runaan took the blades back. No, not blades. They had combined to create a bow––the very bow Ethari had shown him during their date. It had just been an idea, at that time. Now it was a fully realized weapon. How had Ethari constructed it so quickly?

Runaan rotated it slowly, then held it out at arm's length to pull back the string. It felt exactly the same as a real bow. He pulled it closer to look at the clasps, and after a few moments of study, activated the trigger. The handles popped apart, and Runaan swung the two blades to his sides. He gave them a few test swings, brandishing them in the same patterns he often used during a battle, and finally snapped them back together. As the enactment flared again, he laid the bow flat across his palms to stare down at it in wonder.

"This is _stunning,"_ he breathed.

"You think so?" Ethari visibly brightened. "I'd love to know how it handles in an actual fight. Take it with you the next time you spar. Test it out for me." He hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Maybe...I can come watch?" he added in a hopeful tone.

Runaan slung the bow over his shoulder and ran his fingers along the string. It seemed to be holding. The enchantment was a strong one. Ethari truly was talented. "I look forward to wielding it," he said. "You've outdone yourself, Ethari. Such a blade will be indispensable in battle." He offered what he hoped was a playful grin. "And you may watch me as much as you like."

Ethari visibly relaxed. He approached Runaan and lifted his hands slowly to cup his face. When Runaan didn't pull away, Ethari let his thumbs caress his cheekbones, then slid his palms down to rest against his jaw line. He leaned forward, then paused––and let out a soft moan of relief as Runaan closed the distance to meet his lips. This kiss had none of the desperate passion of the ones they had shared previously. It was slow, soft, gentle; a kiss of mutual respect shared between two lovers who wanted nothing more than to share a moment of comfort. When they broke apart, it was to rest their foreheads together and share the same breath. Ethari's fingers trailed along Runaan's neck, and Runaan let his own hands rise to press lightly upon Ethari's chest. Beneath the soft skin and hard muscles, he could feel the steady thump of Ethari's heart.

_It beats for me, now,_ he realized. _And mine beats for him. The two of us... We fit well together._

_I want to spent the rest of my life keeping him safe._

Ethari pulled back, though his fingers continued to toy with Runaan's hair. "I'm glad you're okay, Runaan," he said quietly.

Runaan's brows rose. "Why wouldn't I be?" One of Ethari's hands lowered to run along the fabric covering Runaan's shoulder, tracing the line of his most recently wound. Runaan glanced down at himself, then chuckled. "That's nothing. Just a flesh wound. I've had worse."

Ethari's smile faded. He plucked at the collar of Runaan's tunic to pull the fabric away and ran a fingertip over the partially healed scab. "It's not just the wound, Runaan. I heard you had to end someone. Are you all right? Doesn't it ever get to you?"

"Of course not," Runaan scoffed. "I wouldn't be a very good assassin if it did."

Runaan stepped back and straightened his tunic, then returned to the table to reclaim his seat. As he took a few bites of his unfinished breakfast, Ethari returned to his own chair.

"So what happened?" he asked curiously. "Is it true that the Earthbloods sent scouts to spy on Silvergrove? I thought we were allies?"

"Don't believe every rumor you hear, Ethari. The so-called scouts were just a couple of Earthblood defectors looking to pass through our territory. A human baby was meant to be executed by their people, so they decided steal it, abandon their home, and run off to Katolis by cutting through Silvergrove. Don't worry. It's been dealt with."

"Oh. So you sent them away?"

Runaan finished what was left on the plate and rose again to carry it over to the counter. "I gave them the option of returning home," he said as he looked around for the wash basin. "They chose to attack us instead."

Ethari folded his arms upon the table to stare at Runaan. "So you had to kill them," he replied.

"The alternative was to let them kill us."

There was no wash basin. Runaan set the plate down and gazed in dismay at the rest of the bowls and pans already waiting to be cleaned. Did Ethari have a water source, or did he draw water from a public well?

Behind him, Ethari collected his own plate and wandered over to set it beside Runaan's. "That's true," he sighed as he bent to pull an empty bucket from the cupboard beneath the counter. "They shouldn't have attacked you. An altercation between their people and ours would have endangered our treaty."

"Exactly."

Ethari set the bucket on the counter and turned to level a curious look at Runaan. "What of the baby?" he asked.

Runaan Didn't answer right away. He kept his gaze averted, then set to stacking the dishes to clear more space upon the counter. "It was disposed of," he said simply.

Beside him, Ethari froze. "What do you mean, it was disposed of?"

Runaan sighed and looked up. Ethari was staring at him, his eyes wide and his expression blossoming in trepidation. His opinion of the matter was obvious. Runaan returned to his work, his muscles tensing in preparation to defend himself. "Don't look at me like that," he said sharply. "You know our laws. And you know what humans are capable of."

"Adult humans, yes," Ethari retuned. "But a child? Runaan, did you _kill_ it?"

Emotions played visibly on Ethari's face: an incredulous shock and a horrified disbelief that sent a cold rush of nausea plummeting into the pit of Runaan's stomach. His throat closed for a moment, and he turned away to hide his own expression. As he walked away from the counter, he heard Ethari's footsteps follow him, and when Ethari spoke again, there was a hardness in his voice that Runaan had never heard before.

"You once told me that there must always be a good reason to kill someone," Ethari said angrily. "To bring about justice, or so save someone else's life, or to protect our people. Which excuse justifies the murder of an infant?"

Runaan clenched his jaw and swallowed back the retort that jumped to his lips at the accusation. He didn't need to justify his actions. He had been given a mission, and he had completed it successfully.

_No emotions. No regret._

"It was a human, Ethari," Runaan replied in a cold tone. "Their children aren't like ours."

_"It was a baby!"_ Ethari circled Runaan to stand before him, blocking him from moving further away. "He wasn't dangerous! He knew nothing of the crimes of his people! You could have brought him back here. Someone could have raised him to have a good heart, and let him––"

"Let him what?" Runaan snapped. "Continue to live in Xadia, where anytime he left Silvergrove he would have someone hunting him? Keep him trapped here, where he would be ostracized and constantly suspected of plotting against us?" Ethari took a step back, and Runaan advanced upon him. "Or do you think we would one day take him back to Katolis to let him deliver messages of peace and harmony?," he continued with a sneer. "Perhaps single-handedly end the plague of dark magic so we can finally forgive mankind for all their wrong-doings and welcome them back to Xadia with open arms? Is that what you would have done, Ethari? Let him live and hope for him to become some kind of all-mighty emissary?"

Ethari recoiled. He stared at Runaan as though he stood before a stranger, his head shaking slowly in disgust. Lips tightening, Runaan brushed past him to collect his few remaining articles of clothing. "I had no choice," he said as he tugged them on. "The child was human. It needed to be eliminated."

"Listen to yourself," Ethari returned incredulously. "You're so determined to vilify the human race that you'd accuse an _infant_ of endangering our entire civilization. What kind of monster would actually believe something like that?"

Runaan froze. He turned around, his fists clenching as Ethari drew closer in growing anger.

"Those Earthbloods were willing to risk their lives to bring that child to safety," Ethari hissed. "They weren't trying to harm anyone. And without the key to Silvergrove's enchantment, they never even would have found us. You could have just let them pass us by to complete their mission in peace!"

"They attacked us."

_"They were scared!"_

With an agitated growl, Runaan pushed past him to search for his swords. Again, Ethari followed him. "All they wanted was to save a child's life, Runaan! There was no reason to interfere! How can you stand there without a mote of compassion and try to convince me that slaughtering a baby was the only option you had? Why would you––"

_"Because I have to live with myself afterwards!"_

Ethari fell silent. Several paces away, Runaan started at him, his teeth gritting as he sought to swallow back his admission. He turned away to rub his temples, and Ethari slowly approached, one hand outstretched as his voice lost its heat.

"I know what you do is difficult, Runaan," he started, "but––"

_"Enough."_ Runaan bent to collect his two folded swords from the chair he had set them upon the night before. "I'll not apologize for what I am, nor will I apologize for protecting my people. If you can't accept that, then I see no future for us."

"I'm not asking you to apologize for protecting us, Runaan," Ethari insisted. "I'm asking you to consider what you're doing to achieve that goal. You told me you do what is necessary. Killing a child is _never_ necessary."

With a bitter laugh, Runaan clipped the swords to his belt. "Go ahead," he retorted. "Berate me. Benefit from the courage of warriors and turn a blind eye to the blood we spill your behalf. Make your weapons and then judge us for using them."

"Runaan––"

"We are at _war,_ Ethari. The humans made it clear that they can't live with us peacefully. They would steal our very souls for the chance to wield unnatural power." Runaan paced the room, frustrated that he even had to explain so simple a concept. "That child––that _creature_ ––yes, it was helpless. But for how long?" He gestured vaguely towards the door. "Twenty years from now, it would have found itself at the edge of my blade anyway, and who knows how many of our lives it would have taken in the meantime?"

Ethari's shoulders sagged, and his expression softened. "You don't know that, Runaan," he said quietly.

"And you do?" Runaan shot back. "Can you tell me without a shadow of a doubt what kind of future that child would have had?"

"At least he would have _had_ a future. You took that away from him."

A brittle silence fell across the room. Runaan stared at Ethari––then seized the bowstring of the bow-blade and whisked it over his head. "This conversation is going nowhere," he said as he tossed the weapon upon the table. "I think it's best we avoid crossing paths for a time."

"Runaan..."

"Goodbye, Ethari. I regret we couldn't make this work." Runaan strode across the room to throw open the door. Alarmed, Ethari trotted after him.

"Runaan, wait! Don't walk away from––"

Runaan slammed the door behind himself and stalled down the road. Behind him, he heard the door open again, and Ethari shout his name. Runaan quickened his pace and ignored him.

_He called me a monster._

Runaan turned down a side road and trotted up a series of steps that led into a different level of the settlement. _I should have known better,_ he thought grimly. _He doesn't have the heart to understand the things I do. Mora was right. Caring about people makes us weak. I thought she meant it would make us vulnerable to enemy attacks. I didn't realize that it's the people we care about who will hurt us the most._

Runaan cut though a cluster of residential homes and broke through a line of bushes to emerge onto a narrow path that would eventually taking him home. He needed to rid himself of yesterday's clothes and wash Ethari's scent from his skin. He needed to rest and reflect and figure out what he was going to do next. Things were different, now. He couldn't simply walk away from the situation and pretend it never happened. Angry though he was, he still cared about Ethari. And that was dangerous. Runaan had never doubted the validity of his work, nor questioned the honor that came from a successful mission.

Until now.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The armored fist cracked across his jaw.

Runaan flew backwards and twisted his body to turn with the momentum of the blow. He dropped low, bracing himself upon his hands for a moment before launching himself forward to strike back. His opponent tried to sidestep, but wasn't fast enough; Runaan barreled towards him, only to spring from the ground at the last moment and arch backwards. His feet slammed against his opponent's chest, and Runaan summersaulted backwards to land neatly upon his toes. His opponent fell to his back with a grunt of pain. Without hesitation, Runaan darted forward again, jumping upon his opponent to straddle his waist. With his thighs clamping tightly around him, Runaan crossed the blades of his swords against his opponent's neck to ready a killing blow.

_"I yield!"_

His opponent, a younger warrior with his helmet askew and one eye swollen from an earlier blow, gaped up at fearfully at Runaan, his hands lifting in submission. Still breathing heavily from the fight, Runaan drew his blade back and pushed himself up. He didn't offer his hand to help his opponent rise. As his sparring partner rose to limp out of the ring, Runaan turned to glower at the row of onlookers watching from the sidelines.

"Who's next?" he demanded.

The onlookers exchanged glances. None of them moved. Runaan had already thrashed seven partners in a row, and no one seemed willing to be the eighth.

From behind the crowd, a figure suddenly pushed forward. Tiadrin strode into the ring, her armor gleaming in the gentle light of the moon above them. Runaan tensed and lifted his swords in readiness. Tiadrin raised a hand in response––not to draw her own blade but to gesture for Runaan to lay down his own. "I think you need a break," she said quietly. "Come walk with me."

Runaan ran the back of his wrist along his nose to rid himself of the thin of blood oozing out of it. "If you're not here to fight," he growled, "get out of the ring."

Tiadrin's hand fell to her side. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked Runaan over in speculation before shifting her gaze to watch the younger warrior sit down with a few other trainees to be tended to. Lips pressed thin, she turned her attention back to Runaan.

"I'm not here to play, Runaan," she warned. "Come for a walk."

Runaan's only response was to fall into a defensive position, his blades poised and ready. His eyes locked upon Tiadrin's in silent challenge. Shoulders tensing, Taidrin lifted her hand again––this time to grip the hilt jutting out above her shoulder. She drew her long sword slowly, deliberately, giving Runaan one last chance to back down.

Runaan lunged for her.

Despite her heavy armor, Tiadrin had trained tirelessly to grow accustomed to the added weight. She dodged easily, spinning to avoid what would have been a sharp jab to her exposed side. The white banner of Runaan's hair streaked past her; Tiadrin shot her hand out to grab a fistful of it and yanked it backwards. Runaan's head snapped back. His feet skidded as he lost his balance, even as his sword arched up. As the blade swung towards her, Tiadrin released her hold at the last moment to let the blade slice through his hair instead. A long chunk of white fell to the ground. Runaan didn't even look at it. He lunged for Tiadrin again, this time swinging both swords towards her at once.

Grunting, Tiadrin swung her own blade to deflect the first. The second sword clanged against her armor. Tiadrin knocked it away with a swing of her arm. "You're being reckless," she panted. "I don't know what's got you so worked up, but––"

Runaan vaulted off the ground. Both his swords swung up in readiness to bring them down upon her head, and as Tiadrin automatically lifted her sword to block them, he snapped his legs out to let his feet smash against her face. Tiadrin rocked back, her sword dropping to the ground as she reeled from the blow. Before she had a chance to recover, Runaan landed and kicked the sword away, then whirled to strike again. Eyes wide and furious, Tiadrin spat out a mouthful of blood and braced herself. As Runaan closed the distance between them, she hunkered down, grabbed his belt and his collar, and flung him over her head.

Runaan landed on his back with a strained grunt. Before he could rise, Tiadrin was on top of him. She grabbed his collar again to lift him, drew her fist back, and slammed it into his face. There was a sickening crack, and a burst of stars in the darkness. Runaan started to lift his arms to block her, only to get punched again, then once more. As his hands fell limply to his sides, Tiadrin lifted her fist a forth time and held it poised above his face.

"So are you going to nice little walk with me, or do I have to drag you down the street by your toes?" she hissed.

Runaan panted in exertion. Tiadrin's face was blurry in his vision, and there was a faint ringing in his ears. As much as he wanted to keep fighting, he knew when he had lost. "Very well," he spat back. "Get off of me."

Tiadrin hauled him to his feet. He stood shakily, and let her lead him to the sidelines of the sparring ring. As other fighters stepped in to take his place, Tiadrin shoved him onto a bench and sat next to him. "Here." She thrust a square piece of cloth at him, then brought out another to begin rubbing away the blood on her face. Runaan did the same, silently cleaning himself as best he could. He could feel his face swelling already, and ran his tongue over his teeth the make sure the were all there.

After a few moments, Tiadrin set her cloth aside and started rummaging around in one of her pouches. "You have any healing crystals on you?" she asked. Runaan shook his head, and Tiadrin sighed. "Of course you don't," she muttered. "Let me guess: being healthy somehow makes you weak." She pulled out a small purple crystal and snapped it in half. A pale, shimmery mist wafted out of it, and as she held it beneath Runaan's chin, he felt the familiar numb ache of his face mending. "There," Tiadrin said. "That should hold you." She flicked the broken halves of the crystal aside and dug around in her pouch some more. "That was a good kick, he said as she pulled out another one. "Wasn't expecting it."

Runaan took the crystal and pocketed it. Though he could still feel a faint throbbing along his jaw, it wasn't work wasting a crystal upon. "I wasn't expecting you to hammer my face in," he returned. "You usually pull your punches."

"I did warn you." Tiadrin folded her handkerchief to the clean side, licked the corner of it, and started to move it towards Runaan's face. Runaan immediately jerked his head back, and Tiadrin dropped the cloth to her lap with a scowl. "Really, Runaan?" she said in exasperation. "It's just spit. It's not going to kill you." She took hold of his chin and raised the cloth again. Runaan batted her hand away.

"Don't treat me like a child," he snapped.

"Then stop acting like one." Tiadrin stuffed the handkerchief into her pocket and withdrew one last crystal to snap beneath her own face. "What got you so worked up, anyway?" she asked as her broken nose snapped back into place. "It's not like you to be that aggressive in the ring."

Runaan prodded a his jaw. The crystal had smoothed out the swelling, but a bruise was still forming in its place. "I had a bad evening," he said simply.

"And you decided to share it?"

Runaan didn't answer right away. He watched the other fighters spar for a few moments, then abruptly stood to walk along the back of the training area. Heaving an exasperated sigh, Tiadrin trotted after him. "Come on," she urged. "What happened?"

"It's not something I wish to discuss."

"Did you get the feedback from Mora? Was it bad?"

Runaan's jaw tightened. His fists clenched for a moment, then relaxed. "No, actually," he said with forced calm. "She was satisfied with my work. Her only criticism was that I should have tried to capture the traitors alive so we could arrange for a trade with the Earthbloods. It would have indebted them to us."

Tiadrin wrinkled her nose as they turned onto the main street. "Always the practical one," she muttered. "So that's why you're upset, then? You didn't get a perfect score?" Runaan continued to walk in silence, and Tiadrin finally stepped ahead of him to make him halt. "Just tell me, Runaan," she said in a harder tone. "You know I'm going to badger you until you do." She set her fists upon her hips and planted her feet apart, silently daring him to try to get past her.

Runaan's gaze flicked over her shoulder, than back to her face. Tiadrin was a good friend, but she had a tendency to strong-arm him into conversations he didn't want to have. It grew tiresome very quickly. Sighing, he turned his gaze upwards. Sparring with the other fighters hadn't been as therapeutic as he had hoped. Honing his skills had only served to remind him of how he used them––and of how Ethari had reacted upon learning of his mission.

_But Tiadrin already knows. She will not judge me._

Runaan sighed and lowered his gaze back to her face. Perhaps he would be best to talk about it, after all. "I spoke to Ethari earlier this evening," he admitted reluctantly. "I made the mistake of telling him about my mission."

"So? He knows you're assassin."

Runaan huffed out a soft laugh and moved around her. "He apparently objects to certain aspects of it."

There was a short silence as Tiadrin trailed after him. "Oh, Runaan," she breathed. "You told him about the baby?"

The disappointment in her voice was nearly tangible. Runaan felt his shoulders tense, and he couldn't keep his voice from growing hard in response. "I'll not keep it as a secret, like it's something to be ashamed of," he retorted. "I––"

"I'm not saying you should be ashamed, Runaan," Tiadrin cut in before he could finish. "You just have a way of conveying certain details that makes you sound like––"

"Like I'm a monster."

Tiadrin quickened her steps to cut him off again. "I wasn't going to say that," she said.

"But you're thinking it," Runaan returned bitterly. "Just like he is. And who knows how many other people are thinking the same thing?" Runaan cast an accusatory look around himself, before turning a scowl back to Tiadrin. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if you were to warn me away from Rayla, least I suddenly fall into a fit of blind rage and decapitate her on the spot."

Tiadrin's expression grew dark. "Don't even joke about that, Runaan."

"It's no joke." Runaan brushed past her again to continue down the road. "I don't find my work to be funny. It's an unfortunate necessity in the pursuit of keeping our people safe. Sometimes I need to do things I'm not proud of. I know that. But I'm not..."

The heat left his voice. Runaan slowed to a stop, his shoulders slumping for a moment as he recalled the look of disgust Ethari had cast him earlier that night. As Tiadrin caught up to him again, Runaan pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. "Tiadrin," he started quietly. "Do you think what I did was wrong?"

Tiadrin rested her hand upon his shoulder and offered a thin smile. "I wasn't there," came the gentle reply. "What I think is..." She paused to consider her next words. "There were many possible choices you could have made in that moment," she said carefully. "And I think that child would have made just as many choices as it grew. Not every choice has to lead to conflict. You made a decision based on the options available to you. I don't like the idea of you killing a child," she added quickly, "but I understand your reasoning for it. And it's good to know that people like you are willing to make those kinds of decisions, because moon only knows I wouldn't have been able to do it myself." She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I know you did it as painlessly as possible, Runaan. If it had to be done, I'm glad it was you."

Runaan looked down at his hands. His fingers splayed, then closed to fists before dropping loosely to his sides. "I held it, Tiadrin," he said quietly. "It was crying. I looked into its eyes, and all I could think of was Rayla. That could have been her."

Tiadrin's hand slid from his shoulder. She drew in a slow, deep breath and nodded in understanding. "That could have been her surrounded by humans, you mean."

It was all too easy to imagine such a scenario. Runaan's throat closed for a moment, and he gritted his teeth before responding. "Humans who would have slaughtered you and Lain without a second thought," he replied. "Humans who would have flung Rayla into a frigid lake to let her drown, or who would have abandoned her to starve alone in the dirt."

A wry smile curled at one corner of Tiadrin's lips. "I think Lain and I would be able to hold our own against a bunch of humans," she said lightly. "But if not, I'd hope they'd be as honorable about the situation as I know you were."

"Humans have no honor."

Runaan's voice was cold and hard, his expression dark with a lifetime of hatred. Tiadrin pressed a consoling hand to his back. "Don't let this get to you," she urged. "You aren't a cruel person, Runaan. I know you saw it as a mercy killing. And I don't think you're a monster. _No one_ does. Especially not Ethari. _Hey––"_ She ducked her head to catch his gaze as he tried to look away. "Look at me, Runaan. Ethari doesn't hold grudges. If he said something to make you angry, it was because he was angry himself. But that anger won't last, so don't let it keep eating at you. Just give him some time. He'll understand."

Runaan rolled his shoulder and stepped away from her touch. "He'll never understand, Tiadrin. He's not an assassin."

Tiadrin growled in annoyance and threw up her hands. "That's right," she snapped. "He's not. So don't expect him to share the same views about killing people as you do. We can't all have the strength of character it takes to judge life and death situations."

"Strength of character?" Runaan snorted and gestured vaguely towards the woods where he had fought with the Earthbloods. "Ethari told me I could have let them go," he said. "And he's right. _I could have._ I didn't even consider the option! I was so fixated blocking their entry into Silvergrove, I––" He cut himself off and rubbed his face with both hands. "I didn't think," he hissed. "It's not our responsibility to enforce Earthblood law within Moonshadow territory. If I had simply told them to go around, they could have continued to Katolis without endangering our treaty. Their fates should have been their own to put at risk."

He dropped his hands and looked to Tiadrin uncertainly. "But wouldn't that have made me complicit?" he asked. "Wouldn't that have made it look as though we were aiding traitors and disregarding our alliance with the Earthbloods? What precedent would that have set for future altercations?"

It wasn't often that he asked for advice, but Runaan didn't know what to think anymore. Everything had made sense until Ethari had challenged him. Runaan had been so certain that he had done the right thing, and that he wouldn't hesitate to do it again if he had to. But now...he doubted.

And nothing was more dangerous to an assassin than doubt.

Tiadrin seemed to understand. She cocked her head to indicate the road and began to walk. As Runaan followed after her, she held her hand out again to give his arm a pat. "Sometimes there's no good solution to a problem," she said gently. "The fact that you're seeking advice about this, and that you're willing to ask yourself if you did the right thing..." She spread her hands in a shrug. "A monster wouldn't even care. You have integrity, Runaan. And you care about the people whose lives you take. That's what makes you strong."

Runaan didn't answer. He thought her words over, then let his mind stretch back to every lesson he had ever learned about conduct as an assassin. He had been cautioned so many times about letting his emotions dictate his actions. But it wasn't so simple to let those emotions go.

_You say it makes me strong,_ he thought grimly. _But Mora says it makes me weak._

_One of you is wrong._

He slowed, then stopped to turn back the way they had come. "I'm going to return home," he said. "I need time to meditate."

"Sure." Taidrin watched him walk away a few steps, then trotted up after him. "Oh, hey, quick question," she said brightly. "Which do you like better: string instruments, woodwinds, or a combination of both?"

Brows furrowing, Runaan cast her look of askance. "Both, I suppose. Why?"

Tiadrin took a few steps backwards, he hands clasped behind her back and a smile curling across her lips. "Nothing," came the innocent reply. "Just settling an argument. Enjoy your meditation."

"I...intend to." Runaan's hand lofted in farewell as he stepped away. "I'll see you later, Tiadrin."

"Later, Runaan."

Runaan left her behind and made his slow ascent up the multi-leveled settlement.

_She's right,_ he thought as he walked along the hard-packed paths. _I can't let this consume me. I've already wasted half the night dwelling upon it. I'm above that._ He lifted a hand to rub his temple and turned down a side street. _I'm not even angry about Ethari disagreeing with me. Moon knows I've crossed words with people before. So why does it bother me so much?_

Runaan sighed heavily. _It's because he's calling my very nature into question,_ he admitted to himself. _He's making me doubt everything I've learned as an assassin. And he thinks less of me now. I've disappointed him. He doesn't want to be with someone who'd be so willing to kill a child._

_I don't blame him._

Green suddenly filled his vision. Runaan halted to stare stupidly the familiar green-painted door waiting in front of him.

_Ethari's door. Ethari's house._

Eyes wide in surprise, Runaan took several slow steps backwards. he hadn't meant to come here. He had to leave before Ethari found him lurking on his doorstep. With a shake of his head, Runaan turned to walk away––then turned back to approach the door again. There, he hesitated, and turned walked away again. After several paces, he stopped and hissed in frustration. _This is ridiculous,_ he thought angrily _. I'm too old to be playing these stupid games. We argued. The argument is over. One of us needs to apologize to the other, else we'll have to spend the rest of our lives being uncomfortable around each other. I won't apologize for being an assassin, but at the very least..._ Runaan turned back towards Ethari's home. _I'll apologize for reacting poorly,_ he decided. _We both lost our tempers. We can get that part resolved._

_And if fortune favors us, the rest will follow._

Runaan returned to the door and raised his fist to knock, only to pause before rapping his knuckles against the wood. There was a distinct possibility that Ethari would still be angry, and that this conversation would lead to further conflict. And it was just as likely that Ethari wasn't even home. Perhaps he was at the smithy, hammering the hell out of some hot metal in the same way Runaan had spent the night pummeling hapless sparing partners.

Runaan huffed out a laugh. He would enjoy watching that.

He shook himself. Now was not the time to allow his imagination to conjure up images of bulging muscles glistening in the heat.

Pulling his fist back, Runaan prepared to knock––and again, his hand froze just before striking the wood.

The door was partially ajar.

Runaan lowered his hand as he inspected the thin gap between the door and the frame. Slowly, he reached for the handle and gave the door a gentle push. "Ethari?" he called out. "Are you home? It's Runaan."

There was no answer from within. Runaan tilted his head to see inside, but the illumination crystals inside were not activated. He couldn't see anything.

"Ethari?" he called again. "The door is open. I'm coming in."

He waited a moment to give Ethari a chance to refuse his entry, then pushed the door open the rest of the way. In the dark confines of the home, he thought he could see shapes on the floor; as he passed the threshold, the lighting crystals within the main room began to illuminate.

The room was destroyed. Chairs laid upon their sides, strewn across the floor. Shelves here topped, knickknacks of all sorts were scattered along the floor, the table was laying on its side, and papers were littered all about

Runaan looked around the disarray in disappointment. This was nearly as bad as it had been the first time he had visited. Was this Ethari's way of venting his anger? _How childish._ Runaan had expected better of him. Destroying his own home in a fit of anger, like a toddler throwing a tantrum...

_Wait._

Runaan's eyes narrowed as he assessed the damage more closely. He took a few more steps forward, his gaze skipping from the floor to the counter and then to the hearth. The fire had burned out, but the ashes weren't damp. The wood had been left to burn to cinders––a needless waste, considering the weather. And despite the mess everywhere else, there was nothing laying on the counter––nor were there shards of pottery on the floor to suggest that Ethari had flung aside the plates they had used earlier.

_But that doesn't make sense. Why would Ethari have taken the time to wash the dishes before going on a rampage?_

Runaan slowly walked into the room, his senses on high alert. The table they had eaten at was now closer to the door than it had originally been, laying on its side with its legs pointed towards the opposite wall. If Ethari had indeed flipped it over in anger, he'd have done it in the other direction. He wouldn't have walked around the table first to stand between it and the wall before throwing it.

_It was a defensive move._

Runaan swung around, his eyes darting from the floor to the walls and back again. One of the several chairs thrown about was missing half a leg, the wood sliced cleanly in half. Nearby, and overturned shelf lay at an angle. Schematics were strewn about it, the pages rumpled and torn as though someone had run across them. Carvings were scattered about, several of them broken into pieces from some manner of impact. And there on the wall beside the health––a fresh cut in the wood, barely visible . Runaan ran his fingers over it, recognizing the tell-tall sign of a thin blade being stabbed into it. He looked downwards. Some of the ashes from the fire had been disturbed enough that Runaan could make out a partial footprint. He looked back to the table, where he could see the faint, dusty imprint of a foot on its surface Someone must have kicked it backwards. The toes of the footprint were closed; this person had been wearing boots.

Ethari had been barefoot.

His senses shifted, his mind clearing of everything but thee task at hand. Runaan whisked his swords to the ready and silently walked through the house, checking each of its few rooms to make sure he was alone. No one was here...and no other room had been touched.

_The door was not forced. Someone came in and surprised Ethari sometime after he finished the dishes but before he put out the fire. It must have been right after I left._

Runaan moved to the counter and stood where he imagined Ethari had been.

_He had time to get to the table, flip it over, and throw the chairs. That means he didn't let the intruders in._ Runaan took a step back and threw his gaze towards the door, as he imagined Ethari would have if it had suddenly burst open. From this vantage, he could see a pair of blacksmithing tongs laying on the floor, with a fresh dent in the wood beside the doorframe. _He was using those tongs to move the sausage rolls during breakfast. He hadn't put it away, yet. He threw it towards the door, then turned and ran._ Runaan turned and moved towards the table. He could see the two pieces of the bow-blade laying nearby, one near the table, and one along the far wall. _When I left, this was still a bow. Ethari ran over here, separated the blades to defend himself, and flipped the table to create a barrier between himself and the attackers. But he was disarmed._ Runaan walked slowly around the table, his fists tensing at the sight of several splotches of red spattered upon the floor. _Blood. His? Or the intruders?_

Runaan lifted his gaze. Along the wall behind the table, opening into a room beneath the loft, was a door left partially ajar. It was where Ethari kept a collection of mostly finished projects and a small work table. It was possible that Ethari was attempting to make it into that room, and had used the table as a way to slow the attackers. If he had been able to get to it, he would have been able to lock himself inside and arm himself better.

_But he didn't make it._

Runaan walked through the room again to verify his own suspicions. It had been a short battle. Ethari was strong, but he wasn't a fighter. He had lost the fight...but there were no bodies laying on the floor, and the lack of a blood trail suggested that whoever had been injured had been tended to.

_He's not here. They must have taken him._

Runaan strode to the front door and looked at the ground at the threshold. There, he could see wide groves in the dirt. _Drag marks. They knocked him out, but he was too heavy to carry._ Jaw clenching, Runaan lifted his gaze to the street. There were a number of people walking about...but they hadn't been around when Runaan had left after breakfast. It had been too early.

A bright splotch of purple drew his attention. Runaan crouched down to pluck a partially torn leaf from the dirt. It was wilted, but not yet dry. It hadn't been laying here long. Runaan turned it over slowly, counting the points of the leaf and running his fingers along the nearly black veins that threaded through it. There was a faint vibration in his fingertip as it dragged along the torn edge. This was a leaf from a thunder willow. Such trees did not grow near Silvergrove; the cultivators took care to patrol the vicinity solely to remove whatever sprouts they could find, lest a thunder willow grow mature to begin attracting lighting that might damage the settlement.

Letting the leaf fall back to the ground, Runaan crept forward, still crouched on his haunches as he hovered one hand above the markings in the earth. People were pausing to give him odd looks, but he barely noticed them. He tuned out the world around him, focusing solely on the story he could read in the tracks of his quarry. Around the drag marks, he could see more faint footprints. Different sizes. Three different sets of feet. Narrow tracks, light of weight.

_Elven feet._

Runaan's lips thinned, and he straightened to look towards the nearest thatch of foliage that the intruders could have hidden in. _The Earthbloods,_ he thought darkly. _There must have been more of them than I thought. Did they follow me? Are they seeking revenge?_

Mora's warning rose to mind: _"An enemy will always target those who are closest to your heart."_

Runaan looked back down at the discarded leaf. Though there were no thunder willows near Silvergrove, he knew where the closest thunder grove was. Ethari's assailants had likely camped there before striking.

Runaan spun around to return to Ethari's home. Flinging his blades upon the countertop, he bent to collect the two halves of the bow-blade instead and snapped them together. As the enchanted bowstring hummed into existence, he noticed a streak of red upon one of the blades. Ethari must have wounded someone.

Pride wove through the cold calculations of Runaan's mind. He slung the bow over his shoulder, took two daggers and a fist full of arrows from Ethari's work room, and strode out of the house to begin tracking his targets.

They would regret what they had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fight scenes are shit, and I know it. Moving on.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

A low rumble resonated around him. The ground shuddered, and the air crackled as a swift flash of light cast the craggy edges of the mountainside into sharp relief.

Runaan crept along the tangle of roots that clawed their way up the stone face. Up ahead, he could see the telltale purple glow of the thunder willow grove: a copse of trees encased within a small valley that cut through the mountains. Here, tall willow trees spread their wispy limbs over charred ground blackened by the endless assault of lightning generated within the wood of the tree. Thick clouds hovered within the branches, flickering ominously as they churned through the leaves.

Another flash. Runaan froze to keep from attracting attention, then ducked behind a large boulder the moment the light vanished. There was no moon tonight; without the added power of the moon arcanum, he would have to rely on stealth alone to sneak up upon his prey.

The mouth of the valley opened before him. Runaan crouched within the sparse branches of a cluster of plants and peered into the grove. He could smell the metallic scent of electricity crackling through the air; the sharp stench of charred leaves and the earthy musk of dry dirt. His eyes skipped rapidly along the ground. No other plants grew here. Beneath the dangling libs of the willows, the ground was flat and black. It would be easy to dash across the valley.

Easy...except for one thing.

Another flash. Nearby, the ground exploded, sending a spray of earth flying in every direction as a bolt of lightning cracked down from within a tree. There was a snap and a rumble; further away, the ground exploded again.

_They wouldn't have set up camp here._

Runaan hissed quietly to himself as he rethought his plan. No Earthblood would be stupid enough to set up a tent beneath a thunder willow. They were likely nearby, though. Or maybe...

Runaan narrowed his eyes. He had trained in this grove many times since coming to Silvergrove. The unpredictable lightning bolts had honed his reaction skills, making dodging and sprinting a second nature to him. Mora often recommended sparring in such locations in order to keep her students on their toes. Sometimes, time ran away from them. Sometimes, an unexpected storm made it impossible to leave the grove safely. There were small caves scattered about the edges of the grove to take refuge in––some natural, some carved by Moonshadow elves. The Earthbloods might be in one of them. If not, they might have left behind some clue of where they had gone instead.

Runaan eased out of the plants and pressed close against the mountainside as he ventured into the grove. He kept his eyes trained on the nearest trees, tensing each time the pulsing clouds flickered with light. He was taking a risk, bringing his weapons in here. If he'd had more time, Runaan would have gone home to collect a different set of weapons––nonmetallic weapons that wouldn't increase the likelihood of being struck by lightning.

_I could wrap the blades with my tunic. But that would leave me vulnerable. I need the blades free._

His hand slipped absently to his belt to trace the shafts of the arrows he had scavenged from Ethari's home. _Seven arrows._ The tracks back in Silvergrove indicated three Earthbloods, but who knew how many had been hiding beyond the safety of the protective illusion that––

Runaan halted.

_Three slipped through the barrier? That can't be right. How did they get inside? Only the Moonshadow elves of Silvergrove know the key ritual._

Runaan took a few tentative steps forward, then paused again, suddenly uncertain of his plan.

_This doesn't make sense. How did they learn the ritual? Did they abduct a scout and force him to teach them? No, the scouts know better. They would have used the alert ritual to warn us of an attack. It's possible they could have spied upon the twins and I as we returned home, but..._

_No. There was no one around. We always check thoroughly before initiating the ritual key._

_It doesn't make sense!_

There was a sound in one of the trees nearby; the gentle creak of a branch bending in the wind.

_But there's no wind._

Runaan threw himself sideways just as a narrow throwing knife streaked through the air. The knife thudded into the dirt at an angle, the blade plunging into the earth nearly to the hilt. Runaan rolled and snapped his blades together, an arrow whisking from his belt to the bow sting as the two blades fused into a bow. He took aim at the branches above him, alert to any sign of movement from within the dark cloud and the long, sweeping leaves.

Nothing.

Runaan's senses flared to high alert. He was too exposed.

He snatched the knife from the ground and darted away from the mountainside. The trailing branches of the willows stretched nearly to the ground; they would help to obscure him from sight, so long as he avoided the lightning.

There was a thin hiss. Runaan skidded and arched backwards just as an arrow embedded itself into the trunk of the tree he had been about to pass. A split second later, light flashed, and Runaan flung himself sideways to avoid a bolt of electricity. The air crackled; he could feel his hair begin to stand on edge. Runaan rolled, caught his legs beneath himself, and launched himself forward as another arrowed thumped into the ground where he had just been crouched.

_Two attackers. Both in the trees. Protected from the willows. Surrounded?_

Thoughts blurred through Runaan's mind as he raced through the grove. He had to get away from the center of attack. If he could just figure out how to draw his attackers into the open––if he could trick them into revealing themselves––

A heavy weight slammed into him. Runaan flew to the side and slammed into a tree trunk before catching his balance and shoving away. He snapped the bow apart, the blades arching upright in readiness. Almost immediately, a flash of light flared above him, and he flung himself away from yet another blast. In the same instant, he saw a shadow moving in the billowing cloud that clung to the branches: the slim build of an elf shrouded in black. As he caught his footing, Runaan snapped the bow back together to lift an arrow towards it––

Another blow: the impact of heels slamming between his shoulder blades.

As Runaan lurched forward, he twisted and shot wildly towards the source, and had the satisfaction of hearing a started grunt of pain. A figure darted away to hide in the willow branches. A trail of blood followed after them.

_Got you._

Runaan took chase. The figure flitted in and out of the branches, Runaan close behind. As the figure launched themselves upwards to the higher boughs, Runaan swiftly followed. Finally, he saw an opening. The figure paused for a split second in search of solid purchase; before they could decide their next move, Runaan kicked off his branch and flew at them. His body collided with theirs, and they both toppled from the tree. The figure twisted to claw at Runaan as they fell, their limbs tangling as Runaan fought to maintain a hold on them.

The impact against the ground was enough to knock the breath from his lungs. There was a sharp pain as Runaan's ankle rolled beneath him, and he hitched in a hiss as he forced himself to brace his weight against it. Thunder rumbled above him, and with a frantic twist, Runaan seized his captive's collar to wrench both of their bodies sideways as a bolt of lighting cracked towards them. The bolt caught one of Runaan's blades, and the blade somersaulted into the air before clattering to his side. Runaan seized its handle and arched the blade down to press it against his captive's neck. The fabric of the figure's cowl sizzled as the electricity-charged metal cut into it, and the figure froze.

"Tell me where you took Ethari," Runaan snarled.

For a moment, the figure was silent. Runaan couldn't see their face in the shadows of their cowl, but he saw the flash of white teeth stretching in a grin. The figure began to laugh––a low chuckle that grew to a gleeful cackle.

"Well done, Runaan!" the figure exclaimed. "Just as I expected!"

Runaan snapped his hand away and reared back. He recognized that voice. As he pulled away, the figure sat up to draw her cowl back. Mora beamed at him, her face alight in both pride and triumph.

There were several thumps around him as five other assassins flitted out of the trees to stand ready. Runaan eyes them warily as they pulled back their own cowls. Thellen, Vera, Linelle––and the twins, Desha and Halash. Eyes narrowed, Runaan gathered his other blade and rose to his feet. Though the others kept their weapons lowered, he held his tightly. These were supposed to be his allies. Why had they attacked him?

"Let's move someplace safer." Mora walked confidently past Runaan, leading the way towards the mountainside that circled the grove. The other assassins followed silently after, and Runaan's fists tightened on the grips of his blades.

"Where is Ethari?" he demanded.

"He is safe." Mora waved her hand over her shoulder in dismissal of the question. Runaan snapped his blades together to fuse it into the bow.

"Where is he?" he repeated.

Mora laughed again as they neared the mountainside. "You truly are magnificent, Runaan," she said lightly. "It took only hours for you to find him missing, figure out where we had gone, and track us down. And the battle I anticipated was ended in mere moments. I'm impressed!"

Runaan slid an arrow from his belt and notched it into the bowstring. He was trailing behind the others, now, doing his best to conceal his limp. Each step was painful, but he'd handled worse. With the bow lowered and the arrow positioned loosely in his grip, he slowed to a halt. Mora turned to put her back to the mountain, appraising Runaan almost acquisitively as her other students stood at her sides.

"You presented me with an excellent opportunity," she continued as Runaan silently estimated how many arrows he could fire off before he was overwhelmed. "How many times have I warned you all about opening your hearts to others?" Mora spread her arms to include all of her students in the question. "See how easily Runaan was drawn into an ambush? See how the people you care about can become weapons to be used against you? An enemy that learns of your loved ones will always seek to use those people as leverage."

"The only enemy I see using someone for leverage tonight is you."

Mora's expression grew hard. Her arms lowered slowly. "Guard your tongue, Runaan," she warned. "I am still your mentor."

A lightning bolt stuck the ground somewhere behind Runaan, close enough that he could feel the static skitter along his spine. He held his ground, stoically skipping his gaze from one face to the next. Three of the assassins kept their faces neutral. The twins, however, shared identical guilty expressions. They hadn't yet learned how to conceal their emotions.

"I arranged all of this just for you," Mora said, "to ensure that you would understand just how much a simple romance might affect you. I spoke to Desha and Halash after your last assignment. They both reported that you were distant and distracted. Halash suspected that it was the result of your infatuation with the blacksmith, and after having seen you interact with him myself, I realized that you had set yourself down a dangerous path. You––"

"This has nothing to do with infatuation," Runaan said sharply. "A citizen of Silvergrove was taken by force from his home. Did you at all consider what might have happened if someone other than I had discovered the abduction? Did you think of how that might have caused a panic in Silvergrove, or of how easy it would have been some someone to accuse neighboring settlements of the attack?"

There was a flicker of emotion on a few of the student's faces; shared glances and a slight twitch of the eyebrows. Oblivious, Mora kept her own gaze trained upon Runaan. "I had full confidence that you would be the one to––"

"Did you really?" Runaan interrupted. "And what of Ethari himself? Did you ask him if he would be willing to help you, or did you simply attack him without explanation? Did the other faction leaders approve this assault? Did you even inform them of it?"

Some of the students shifted their attention to Mora. Halash and Desha shared a meaningful look. In front of them, Mora stiffened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

"Runaan, I––"

"Don't speak to me." Runaan lifted his bow and took aim at her chest. "You've needlessly endangered one of our people for no reason other than to teach me a lesson. I wonder what lesson those students behind you have gained from your actions?"

The other assassins shifted, their hands tightening instinctively upon their weapons. Though they tensed, they made no move to intervene. Mora slowly lifted her hands, both the ward them off and to placate Runaan.

"Don't be a fool, Runaan," she began as she took a step forward. "We aren't your enemies. You––"

Runaan let loose the arrow. It flashed through the air, sinking deep into the meeting of her arm and body. Mora stumbled backwards at the impact. As she clutched at the shaft, two of the assassins jumped forward to block another attack, their weapons raised and ready. Runaan whisked out another arrow, notched it, and aimed for Mora's face.

"An assassin's role is to protect Xadia and its people," he snarled. "Especially our own. By attacking Ethari and dragging him from his home, you have betrayed your oath. _Tell me where he is."_

There was a long silence. The tension stretched thin between them. Behind Mora, the twins quietly sheathed their blades. To their side, Vera did the same. And in front of Mora, both Thellen and Linelle tilted their heads the slightest bit to listen for Mora's response.

Runaan drew the string back a little more.

"Very well." Mora straightened, her voice cold and deadly as she tore the arrow from her wound. "He is in a cave just north of here. We left him bound for his safety."

Runaan's fingers tensed––and slowly, with forced effort, he lowered his arm. Jamming the arrow into his belt, he slung the bow over his shoulder and turned away. "I would advise you to keep your distance from both of us henceforth."

He kept his ears perked as he walked away, listening both for the sound of willow bolts and for the sound of weapons being drawn. Allies or not, he would kill them each in turn if they drew their blades upon him again.

No one followed him. Runaan limped with as much dignity as he could muster as he followed the curve of the mountainside. He could feel his ankle swelling. If he didn't remove his boot soon, he would need to cut it off later. _Tiadrin gave me that healing crystal,_ he thought distractedly. _It's small, but it may be enough to ease the pain and allow me to walk properly._

He immediately shook his head. _No. If Ethari is injured, he'll need it. I'll go without._

Gritting his teeth, he pressed onwards, his eyes skimming along the rock face in search of anything even remotely resembling a cave. All the while, his mind raced over what he had just done. He had assaulted his mentor. There would be no turning back from that. No apologizing or earning back her trust. His time as an assassin were over.

_I don't care. I'll repurpose my skills to become a hunter instead. I can still remain here._

_With Ethari._

_If he'll still have me._

_...No. That's over as well. I need to let him go._

There was a narrow crevice ahead. Runaan quickened his pace, hissing each time he put weight upon his injured ankle. His future ambitions were irrelevant. All that mattered was Ethari.

Inside the cave, Ethari waited.

The ground was cold and rough. Tiny stones dug into Ethari's skin, jabbing his ribs each time he inhaled. He couldn't see. The blindfold that had been tied over his eyes was thick enough to block out even the barest hint of light. He gnawed in frustration upon the gag tied tightly over his mouth. The fabric had forced his teeth apart and had absorbed all the moisture from his mouth. He huffed out a sigh––then coughed awkwardly as a breath of dust invaded his lungs.

_Someone will come for me._

Ethari wriggled his fingers to keep them from growing numb. Rope had been wound around his wrists and ankles, binding them together behind his back. An additional length of rope stretched from his wrists to his neck; every time he attempted to wrestle his hands free, the rope tightened around his neck. It was an effective way to keep him from just getting up and hopping away, he realized dimly.

That was probably the point.

He turned his face to grind his nose against the ground in a vain effort to reach the itch on his brow that had been irritating him for the past hour. It wouldn't be long, he kept telling himself. Someone would notice he was missing. Faleth would want to know why he hadn't gone to the smithy to finish the project they had been working on together. Or a friend would come to visit him and wonder why he wasn't home.

_They'll assume I'm visiting someone else._

Ethari scrunched his eyes tightly at the thought. He couldn't let himself dwell on the worst scenarios. Lain had mentioned stopping by the borrow a few books, after all. He was nosey enough that he might invite himself inside to get them when no one answered the door. He would see the wreckage of the abduction and...

And what? Tell someone? Try to find him? No one would even know where to begin. Even Ethari didn't know who had taken him; it was just a bunch of elves shrouded in black, faceless as ghosts.

_Runaan would know what to do._

Ethari turned his face away from the dust and heaved out another breath. Runaan wasn't coming. Not after the fight they'd had.

There was a skittering sound from somewhere to his left; the sound of tiny rocks crumbling and something larger scraping against them. Ethari heard a faint tap of metal against stone, then the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps. Tensing, he forced himself to remain still. He wanted to shout around his gag, to beg for help from whoever it was.

But he didn't want to draw attention to himself if it was one of his captors.

"Ethari?"

_Runaan's voice._ Ethari let out a shout and twisted excitedly towards the familiar voice. Immediately, the rope around his neck tightened to choke him. The footsteps quickened, then dropped beside him. Ethari felt hands at his throat––then the whisk of a blade cutting through the rope. As he gasped for breath, Runaan sliced through the rest of his bindings, then tore away the gag. Ethari didn't even wait for the blindfold to be removed; he lunged forward, flinging his arms around Runaan and crushing him to his chest. Runaan stiffened in his arms. Then, slowly, his hands rose to press against Ethari's back. Ethari held him tighter. He was probably squeezing the life out of Runaan, but he couldn't bring himself to let go.

"Ethari..." Runaan's hand rose higher to tug at the knot of the blindfold. As the fabric slipped away, Ethari pulled back to look at him. His own hands cupped Runaan's jaw, holding it firmly as he reassured himself that Runaan was actually there.

"We have to get out of here," he said urgently. "I don't know how many there are––"

"Six," Runaan said simply. "I've taken care of it." As he spoke, Runaan trailed his fingers along the rope burn around Ethari's neck, then upwards to the bloodied lump at his temple where Ethari had been struck. Ethari let out a breathless laugh. Of course Runaan had taken care of it. Why had Ethari doubted him?

"You're injured," Runaan murmured. He pulled a hand back to reach into his pocket, and Ethari shook his head in dismissal.

"It's nothing," he said. "Who were they? What did they want? Did you kill them?"

Runaan withdrew a small crystal and snapped it in half. As a filmy healing mist curled out of it, he held in beneath Ethari's chin. The rope burn faded, and the bruised lump evened out. "It was Mora and the other assassins," Runaan said as Ethari's wounds healed. "They abducted you to teach me a lesson."

Ethari stared at him. That was not the answer he had been expecting. "I...I don't understand. Why––"

"Neither do I." Runaan tossed the emptied crystal aside. "We'll need to talk to Faleth as soon as we get back. He can discuss this attack with the other faction leaders. I know he wouldn't have approved this." He reached around Ethari to pull away the cut pieces of rope and flung them further away. "Mora acted on her own," he continued, "and used her authority to pressure her students into helping her under the guise of training. She will be punished for it."

Scowling, Ethari let himself fall back to sit cross-legged across from him. "She'd damn well _better_ be," he retorted. "I hope you beat her ass bloody."

Runaan's brows rose at the unexpected response. "I'm surprised," he said. "You're usually not the vengeful type."

"She put me in danger," Ethari returned. "And she put _you_ in danger. I won't forgive her for that."

"You will."

Ethari started to object, then paused and sighed. "You're right," he admitted. "I will. But not for a long time." Ethari rubbed his face, then took a moment to gaze at Runaan's. "Thank you for coming for me, Runaan," he said in a quieter tone. "I'd hoped, but after the way we parted..." He paused again. His hand rose to grip Runaan's jaw, and gently turned his face to one side as he noticed the purple bruising on one cheekbone. "What happened to your face?"

"Tiadrin."

Ethari snorted. He'd made the mistake of agreeing to a 'friendly' wrestling match with Tiadrin once before. The two of them had _very_ different ideas of what 'going easy' on someone meant. "I've got some healing crystals at home," he offered aloud.

"So do I."

"My house is closer."

"Your house is a mess."

Ethari jabbed a finger at him. "Hey, it's not my fault, this time!" he returned playfully. He grinned, inviting Runaan to smile back. When Runaan's expression remained stoic, Ethari's smile faded uncertainly. "I'd, uh...like it if you came over again," he said. "We've got some things we should probably clear up. And you can help me clean the mess," he added hopefully. "I like doing that with you. I like doing _anything_ with you, really." He smiled again. Runaan only shifted from a kneeling position to rest upon his thighs. Shoulders sagging, Ethari nodded. He understood why Runaan was acting distant. "Look, Runaan," Ethari sighed. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. Things got a little heated, and neither of us handled it very well. But it's okay. I forgive you."

Runaan's expression grew dark. "You _forgive_ me?" he replied sharply. Ethari winced.

"That was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it?," he muttered, and tried again. "I meant I'm not angry at you anymore." Ethari started to rise and gestured for Runaan to follow him. "Let's go home and talk about it. We can get through this."

Runaan didn't move. "I don't think we can," he said quietly. "I wanted this to work, Ethari. But I know it won't. It's time to give it up."

Brows furrowing, Ethari sank back down. "Runaan, it was one argument––"

"That's all it takes." Runaan slid a hand down his leg to rest it upon his ankle. "You and I are very different people," he said darkly. "There's no common ground, here. I killed a child. And I'll do it again, if I must." His jaw clenched for a moment, and he took a breath to steady himself. "Things like that affect me deeply, Ethari," he admitted in a softer tone. "I don't need to be beaten down about it afterwards. What I need is someone who will support me when I have to make that kind of decision. Someone who will reassure me that I'm not some kind of heartless monster. I thought you could be that person." His voice lowered to a near whisper. "I was wrong."

Ethari shook his head and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "Runaan..."

Runaan smacked his hand away. "Those of us who live by the edge of the blade must have hearts as strong as steel," he said in a stronger voice. "Our lives depend on our ability to make difficult choices. There can be no doubt. There can be no hesitation. That one moment of indecision may very well be what hands a victory to our enemies." He pinched the bridge of his nose, then waved a hand in defeat. "You were right about the child," he went on. "There are times when it's necessary to take a life. I can't think about the target itself; only of the good I'm doing by eliminating it. But there was no definitive good, this time. No necessity. Life is precious and fleeting, and I took it out of precaution alone. I didn't see that, at the time. Now..." He shook his head again. "Now I doubt. And that means the next time I need to make a kill, I'll doubt again. _I'll hesitate._ And that makes me a failure."

"Runaan, you aren't––"

"I apologize for losing my temper," Runaan interrupted. "You didn't deserve it. But I need you to understand that I don't have the luxury of fighting with a warrior's honor, nor of indulging in moments of compassion and mercy. _I'm an assassin._ Once I am given a target, that target must be eliminated. Even if it is a child. I can't stay with someone who shames me over living up to the oath I took to protect my people." Runaan shifted as though he was preparing to rise. "I'm sorry, Ethari. I hope we can reconcile our differences one day, but for now––"

"No."

Ethari's voice was hard and final. Runaan stilled to stare at him in surprise. "What?"

"I said no." Ethari shoved himself up to stand over him. "I'm not letting you walk away from me this time," he said firmly. "You always have to have the last word, don't you? As long as you get to say what you want, the hell with everyone else's opinions."

"I don't––"

"Stop talking," Ethari snapped. "Just sit there and listen to me." He paced around Runaan as he groped blindly for the right words. "I get that you need to do unpleasant things sometimes," he said. "I don't fault you for that. An assassin's job is difficult and complex, and I'm not going to pretend to understand what thoughts race through your mind right before you spill blood. I know you don't kill without reason." He stopped directly in front of Runaan. "But in this instance, I don't believe it was the right thing to do," he continued earnestly. "I get to disagree with you, Runaan. Just like you get to disagree with me. Do you really want to end things between us just because we had an argument?"

Sighing, Runaan, looked away. "It's not just the argument, Ethari," he replied tiredly. "It's the impact of it. Your opinions matter to me, and I'm..." He gave another vague wave of his hand. "Ethari, they may very well impact the decisions I make in the future."

"And you think that's a bad thing?" Ethari crouched down to look Runaan in the eyes. "Runaan, I'm not going to follow you into battle and tell you what to do. Maybe you'll hear my voice in the back of your mind when you're about to do something dire, but..." He rested his hands upon Runaan's shoulders again and gripped them tightly. "Runaan, you're a Moonshadow Elf. You're strong, you're willful, you're intelligent. You have a good heart and a strong spirit. _And you have a conscience._ That's what separates you from those same soul-sucking dark magic wielders you've dedicated yourself to driving off. You're an idiot if you think that's a weakness."

"Ethari––"

"No," Ethari said again, and pushed himself back up. "Now _I_ get to walk away with the last word. You get to sit there and stew in your own misery until you realize I'm right. Come talk to me when you've grown some sense," he added as he headed for the narrow mouth of the cave. "I'll be waiting."

Shoulders back and head held high, Ethari walked away. _Trust Runaan to ruin a heartwarming rescue with his morose pessimism,_ he thought glumly. _If he won't even give me the chance to be thankful, then I'm not going to give_ him _the chance to act like some kind of self-sacrificing martyr. Not this time. I worked too hard to get him to reciprocate my interest, and I'm not about to let him go so easily!_

Ethari eased through the crevice of the cave's entrance. There, he halted to stare wide-eyed at the grove of thunder willows. He had heard the rumbling sounds and the crackling snaps, but hadn't recognized what they were. Now, with the ominous clouds rotating slowly around the cluster of dark trees and the bright lances of lightning striking the ground between them, Ethari realized that he had no idea where he was or how to get home safely.

_Damn._

Ethari turned around and squeezed back through the crevice to return to the cave. In the dim light that illuminated the small space, he could see Runaan sitting right where he'd left him, one boot laying to the side as he gingerly massaged his foot. He looked up as Ethari walked back towards him, and Ethari sheepishly jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the grove.

"I, uh...don't know the way back," he mumbled.

A flicker of what might have been a smile passed over Runaan's lips. He bent to collect his boot and pushed himself up. "I'll walk with you," he replied. He took a step towards Ethari and winced, and Ethari's gaze shot down in alarm to see that his foot and ankle were puffy and discolored.

"You're not walking anywhere," Ethari protested. "You're injured!"

"I can manage." Runaan continued to walk, and Ethari held out an arm to stop him.

"You're limping!" he accused. "How far is Silvergrove from here? Do you really expect to hobble the whole way there?"

Runaan shot him an irritated look, then cast a glower towards the cave entrance. Indecision crossed over his features, and Ethari nodded. "I thought so. Come here." Ethari reached out to curled one arm against Runaan's back and started to lean down. Runaan jerked away angrily.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I'm going to carry you."

"Absolutely not."

"I wasn't asking." Ethari straightened to study Runaan speculatively. "I'll give you a choice: would you rather be on my back or in my arms?"

There was a brief moment of consideration as Runaan's gaze lingered upon Ethari's arms before his expression hardened again. "Neither," Runaan snapped. "I'm perfectly capable of walking." Boot clutched tightly in his fist, he limped past Ethari. Ethari followed after him closely––and the moment they were outside, he scooped Runaan up and lifted him. Runaan fell against him in surprise, his legs kicking out as he shoved angrily against his chest.

"Ethari! Unhand me!"

"Stop wiggling around," Ethari advised. "You'll make me drop you."

"This is undignified!"

There was a note of panic in the protest. Ethari glanced down in confusion. Seeing Runaan's eyes skipping frantically towards the trees, he eased him back to the ground. "I get it," he sighed. "You're afraid someone will see you. Can't have them thinking you're anything less than an invincible god, can we?" He turned and crouched down with his arms bent backwards. "Get on my back, then. I'll give you a ride."

Runaan eyed him dubiously. He looked back towards the trees, then down to his ankle. He was already favoring it enough that he stood with his injured foot pulled up from the ground. It was looking worse with each passing minute. Runaan seemed to understand that it would be foolish to keep putting weight upon it. After several tense moments, Runaan finally heaved out a sigh. "Fine," he said grudgingly. "I'll get on your back. But you're to set me down before we enter Silvergrove."

Ethari cast a grin over his shoulder. "Are you sure? There's an awful lot of stairs heading up to your house."

"I'll find a walking stick."

"I'll be your walking stick."

Runaan narrowed his eyes at him. "Was that supposed to be a euphemism?"

"Do you want it to be?"

For a moment, Runaan didn't answer. Then, with a shake of his head, he took hold of Ethari's shoulders and climbed upon his back. Ethari bent forward to balance his weight, tucked his arms beneath Runaan's knees, and hitched him up.

"This is a thunder willow grove," Runaan warned as Ethari adjusted his weight. "We'll need to stay along the rock face to avoid the lightning. If I tell you to dodge, throw yourself sideways immediately. Don't ask questions, don't hesitate, and don't worry about dropping me."

Ethari looked warily towards the willows as he stared to walk. "Are the other assassins still out there?"

"Maybe," Runaan murmured. "But they'll leave us alone. And if they don't..." He hooked his arms more securely around Ethari's neck as he let the threat trail off. With a thin smile, Ethari ventured onwards. For several paces, Runaan was silent. Then, "Would you really have waited for me?"

"For as long as it took."

Ethari felt the slight pressure of Runaan resting the side of his face against his own. "Once I've healed up, I'd like to teach you some techniques," Runaan said decisively. "Fighting stances, offensive maneuvers, evasion..."

Ethari chuckled. "I'm not a fighter, Runaan."

"Then you're a target." Runaan lifted his face, and heat kept along Ethari's neck as he felt Runaan's lips brush for a moment along his ear. "I don't intend to make a warrior out of you," Runaan continued, "but you should at least know how to keep being disarmed, and how to throw your weight behind a punch. You have muscles, Ethari. Use them."

Ethari cleared his throat and offered a distracted laugh. "Will you teach me how to do that thing where you run through the trees without falling flat on your face?" he asked lightly.

The questioned earned him a soft chuckle as Runaan recalled Ethari doing just that not long they had been formally introduced. "I'll try," came the wry reply.

"Then I guess we have a deal."

Runaan hummed and tucked his head down again. Ethari felt his breath warm his neck, and was suddenly all too aware of the faint beat of Runaan's heart thumping against his back. _He saved my life,_ Ethari thought in wonder. _He came all this way, fought off his own allies, and got injured. All for me. And when he found me, it was more important to him that he heal me instead of himself. He had already let me go...but he was willing to risk his life to bring me back safely._

"I'm glad you're safe, Ethari."

Ethari broke from his thoughts, and had to replay Runaan's words in his mind before responding.

"I'm glad you saved me," he replied.

Runaan's grip tightened slightly. "You weren't in any true danger. They would have brought you home eventually."

"I didn't know that."

There was a short pause. "I won't let anything happen to you," Runaan promised. "No matter what happens, I'll protect you."

He sounded so sincere. Ethari thought back to the soft brush of his lips again his ear, then back to the touch of his hands back in the hidden glade. He thought of Runaan's open smile, and of how _right_ it had felt to wake up beside him the night after. Laying in bed with Runaan's arm slung across his chest, his slow, even breath warming his shoulder as, for just those few precious moments, their hearts seemed to beat as one...

"Runaan," Ethari started quietly. "I think I––"

_"Dodge!"_

Ethari flinched and lurched sideways. Energy cracked against the ground, the earth erupting around him as lightning struck its mark. Ethari stumbled and collapsed, and Runaan fell from his back to roll several paces away. As the crackling air calmed, Ethari scrambled up to run for him. Runaan was curled on his side, clutching his ankle and hissing in an effort to hold back his pain. Crouching down, Ethari tucked his arms beneath him and lifted him against his chest.

"Don't argue," he snapped as Runaan started to object. "I'm making a run for it."

Without a waiting for a response, Ethari took off at a brisk jog. It was going to be a long hike back to Silvergrove.

But, Ethari reflected as Runaan curled his arms around his neck in resignation, it would be worth it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Tiadrin paced beneath the shadows of stunted tree. She bounced Rayla absently against her shoulder, her gaze darting down the road, then upwards towards the archway of the smithy further up the mountain. This was taking too long. Where was he?

"Tiadrin!"

Tiadrin turned swiftly, a sigh of relief escaping her as Lain trotted up to her side. "You're late," she hissed. "I've been waiting forever. Is it all set? Are you ready?"

Lain nodded, though a wary expression lingered upon his face. He scratched the back of his head and cast an uncertain look towards the smithy. "This might be too soon, Tiadrin," he said. "Ethari just got back from––"

"From being rescued," Tiadrin agreed. "By Runaan. This is the perfect time to do it, Lain! Ethari's still reeling from shock and gratitude, and Runaan's probably feeling all protective of him." She shifted Rayla's weight from one arm the other and lifted her chin towards the smithy. "People always feel closer after a shared fright," she continued. "Their emotions will be heightened, and they'll seek comfort in each other's arms. It'll be so romantic!"

Lain leveled a fond at her. "You've obviously thought a lot about this," he mused. "Have you already prepared an itinerary for their first bedding?"

"Why? You think they'd need help with that?"

An alarmed look immediately flashed over Lain's face, and Tiadrin rolled her eyes. "I'm kidding!" she exclaimed. "Moon above, Lain! We're just giving them a little push in the right direction. They'd be so good together!" She jiggled Rayla and looked down at her. "And if they're going to bicker like an old married couple, they might as well get married, right?" she cooed. Rayla's face scrunched. She writhed unhappily in the blanket bundled around her and began to fuss. Sighing, Tiadrin held her closer and patted her back. "Damn it, Rayla, stop wiggling around."

Lain watched his wife for a few moments, his lips thinning in exasperation. "She's too big to keep swaddling, Tiadrin," he said for what felt like the hundredth time. "Let her kick. She wants to walk."

"She's _not_ too big," came the stubborn reply. "She's a tiny baby, and she's going to be tiny forever. Isn't that right, Rayla? You just want to stay tiny and sweet and safe in my arms, don't you?" Rayla began to fuss louder. With a growl of irritation, Tiadrin begrudgingly tugged open part of the blanket. "Ugh, fine. I'll unwrap you."

"Give her here."

Taidrin passed Rayla over to Lain, who unwrapped the blanket entirely and sat down on the ground with his legs apart. As he set Rayla on her feet and held onto her hands, Rayla's face blossomed with excitement. Clinging tightly to her father's fingers, she began to bounce in place, and Tiadrin sat across from him to stretch her own legs out over Lain's.

"All right," she said as she held out her hands expectantly. "Let's go over this one last time. Are the musicians in place?"

Lain prompted Rayla forward. As she started to take a few shaky steps, he loosened his grip so she was only holding onto his fingers. "They're positioned beneath the cliff," he reported. "The concert will begin in a half hour, and they'll play for a full hour after that."

Rayla let go of Lain's fingers and burbled happily as, for a few seconds, she managed to retain her balance. "And the butterflies?" Tiadrin asked.

Lain's hands hovered over Rayla as she managed another step. "I've got three cages hidden around the pool ready to be released."

Rayla began to pitch forward. Both Tiadrin and Lain lurched towards her to catch her. "And what are you going to tell Ethari when you get to the smithy?" Taidrin asked as she picked Rayla up and turned her around to try again.

"That you and I have gotten into an argument," Lain recited, "and that I feel terrible, and that you're crying at the Crystalward pool, and could he please go talk to you for me."

Rayla began to bounce again, and Taidrin bounced her hands with her. "Good," she replied. "You won't need to give him much detail. He'll be so worried about me, he'll rush straight down."

"And I'll stay up there to watch so I can give you the signal when I see him getting near the pool," Lain agreed. He held out his hands, and Tiadrin guided Rayla forward to see if she could make it back to him.

"Perfect," she said as Rayla released her fingers. "Give me twenty minutes before you head up to the smithy. Runaan will ask more questions, so I'll need time to coax him into going a walk. In fact, go hide up by the smithy now and watch the pool. As soon as you see me and Runaan get close to it, send Ethari down. Give the signal as soon as he's within calling distance of the pool. I'll tell Runaan I need a moment alone, give Rayla to him to make sure he doesn't go anywhere, and leave. As soon as Ethari and Runaan lock eyes, I'll release the butterflies."

Lain stretched out to collect Rayla and pulled her into a hug. "Got it," he said. "This is a terrible plan, and I love you."

"You have terrible fish breath right now, and I love you back." Tiadrin stood up and dusted herself off as Lain breathed into his hand to sniff his breath. It was a good plan, she told herself firmly. All that was left was to implement it. Taking Rayla back from Lain, Tiadrin kissed her husband and turned to head off towards Runaan's house.

This was going to be beautiful.

Much further away, Ethari left the healer's temple to make his way back to Runaan.

He held the jar of bumbleberry oil carefully between his palms as he jogged along the main road. Healing crystals were useful, but they had their limits; though they had reduced the swelling over the course of the day, Runaan's ankle had puffed right back up again by the time night fell. The healer has assured Ethari that this oil would do the trick.

_It had better, since Runaan's refusing to let the healer see him in person._

Ethari jogged past the side path that would have led towards his home and continued upwards. He had wanted to take Runaan to his own home to recover, and had initially stopped there to spend the remainder of the night. It had seemed like a good idea...except that Runaan kept trying to clean the mess left behind by the assassins.

_He couldn't leave it alone,_ Ethari marveled fondly. _I lost count of how many times I had to snatch a piece of broken wood, or a rag, or_ something _out of his hands!_

He chucked to himself. He should have known Runaan wouldn't be one to lay around watching someone else do all the work. Ethari had finally decided to take Runaan back to his own home, instead. It had been a slow walk; Runaan refused to be carried in front of the residents of Silvergrove, didn't want to be seen clinging to Ethari's arm, and didn't want to be seen relying on a cane or a crutch. The result had been Runaan limping stiffly up an endless stretch of stairs, his jaw clenched and his skin growing paler by the moment as Ethari hovered nearby ready to catch him if he fell.

_Stubborn idiot. Would have served him right if he'd passed out._

Ethari started up the steps that curled around the large tree that made up Runaan's home. Difficult through Runaan could be, Ethari was happy to help him. It was strange; though they had only known each other for a handful of weeks, Ethari couldn't imagine letting a day go by without seeing Runaan's face––without sharing a smile with him, or touching his arm, or sharing a meal together. Runaan was already a part of Ethari's life. It was amazing how someone so infuriating be so endearing.

He reached the top landing and threw open the door. "I'm back!" he announced as he walked inside. "I think this should–– _Runaan!_ What are you doing!"

In the center of the floor, Runaan was balancing upside down, his hands pressed flat against the floor as he slowly eased his weight up and down in what had to be the most uncomfortable-looking set of pushups Ethari had even seen.

"Exercising," Runaan grunted without looking up.

Face set in determination, Ethari set the jar on the counter and strode across the floor to seize Runaan by the calves. "That's not what I meant when I told you to keep your foot elevated," he complained over Runaan's objections. "You shouldn't even be moving around!"

"I'm not an invalid," Runaan snapped as Ethari lowered him to the floor. "I'm fully capable of navigating my own home." He shoved Ethari's hands away and rose awkwardly to keep from putting weight upon his injured foot. Ethari stayed close to him, his arms outstretched in readiness to catch him if he lost his balance.

"All right, fine," he retorted as Runaan straightened. "Snap your other ankle, then. It'll give me an excuse to keep you wrapped up in bed."

Runaan's face was flushed from being upside down, his hair mussed and crammed into a thick bun at the nape of his neck. He ran his wrist across his forehead and reached back to yank the hair tie away. As his hair tumbled freely down his back, Ethari couldn't help but rake his gaze over him.

_Moon have mercy. He's not even wearing a shirt._

Ethari's fingers twitched. He wanted to comb them through Runaan's hair, to smooth those silky strands, braid them, play with them. He wanted to run his palm along the defined muscles of Runaan's shoulders, down the curve of his spin, along the dip of his waist...

"What did you get?"

Ethari's attention snapped back to Runaan's face. "Ah––bumbleberry oil," he managed. He gestured towards a chair and moved back to the counter. "Sit down. Let's try it out." Behind him, Runaan dropped into the chair beside his table. Ethari collected the jar, then dragged over the only other chair to seat himself directly in front of him. "Give me your foot," he instructed, already reached down to carefully lift Runaan's leg. Runaan grabbed the sides of his chair and shifted to rest his foot upon Ethari's lap. His ankle was even more swollen than it had been when Ethari had left an hour earlier to get the oil. Runaan had obviously been doing more than just a few exercises. Sighing in annoyance, Ethari ran his fingertips lightly over the inflamed skin.

_He got hurt because of me._

Ethari pressed his lips thin. Runaan was right. Ethari needed to start learning how to defend himself––how to fight and use the weapons he kept making for everyone else. Ethari didn't want to be used as leverage again. He didn't want Runaan to be hurt because of Ethari's shortcomings.

"Okay," he said aloud as he opened the jar and set the lid aside. "I just need to rub it over the affected area––"

Runaan's foot jerked back as the first drops of oil struck his skin. "It's cold!"

Ethari gripped Runaan's calf to hold him still. "What, too much for you?" he teased. Runaan clamped his mouth shut and forced himself to drop his foot back to Ethari's lap. Ethari gently spread the slick pink oil over Runaan's ankle and laid the jar down to lift the pouch of powdered lunar moss rom his belt. "And then," he continued as he shook it over Runaan's foot, "I just need to sprinkle a bit of magical dust over it and... _vivifica tarso!"_ Ethari traced a symbol in the air as he spoke the command. The power flared white, then faded as both it and the oil sank into Runaan's skin. As the magic was absorbed into it, the ankle began to shrink down to its normal size, until Runaan's foot finally looked normal again. Ethari gave it a tentative prod, then an optimistic pat when Runaan didn't flinch away. "Well?" he prompted.

Runaan lifted his foot and rotated it. "It's stiff," he admitted, "but it doesn't hurt."

"Stand up." As Runaan stood, Ethari rose with him and stepped back to give him space. "Put some weight on it," he said in an encouraging tone. "How's it feel?"

Runaan shifted his weight from one for to the other. "Feels okay."

"Best make sure. Stand on one foot."

Runaan shifted his weight to balance on the newly injured foot. He barely even wavered.

"Good," Ethari said. "Hop on it."

Runaan hopped without issue, and Ethari beamed. "Looks sturdy! Take off your pants, just to be sure."

Runaan's fingers started to curl at the band of his pants. He paused, then dropped his arms and leveled a withering look at Ethari. _"Really,_ Ethari?"

With a broad grin, Ethari raised his hands and took another step back. "What?" he asked innocently. "We should test every scenario, right?"

Runaan snorted. Seizing hold of the back of his chair, he shoved it back beneath the table. "You're incorrigible," he said.

"I'm charming," Ethari replied. He brought his chair over to tuck it next to Runaan's. As he pushed the chair into place, his eyes drifted to a partially unrolled length of paper laying on the table. Curious, he picked it up. "What's this?"

Runaan glanced over briefly and looked away to collect his tunic. "A messenger came by while you were out. It's feedback from my last mission."

"Which one?" Ethari asked dryly. "The one where you had to kill a baby, or the one where I got beat up and kidnapped?

Runaan tugged his tunic over his head and made a point of not looking at him as he tugged the fabric straight. "The one where you got kidnapped."

"Oh, good. Then I can expect it to include a heartfelt apology. Let's hear it, then." Ethari rolled up the paper and tapped it against his palm expectantly. When Runaan chanced a look at him, Ethari offered an encouraging smile, and Runaan visibly relaxed.

"Ever the optimist," he mused. "There's no apology. Mora commended my skills and is notifying me of a gathering. She's arranged for all of the assassins to meet tomorrow to discuss what happened. All of us will give her our feedback and present our views over whether or not she will continue as our leader." Runaan set his hands upon the back of his chair as he stood over it again. "She's already made her decision to step down and name her successor," he added quietly. "Me."

Ethari's eyes widened. Tossing the paper to the table, he bounded over to Runaan's side to grip his arm in excitement. "Runaan, that's wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Didn't you tell me you wanted to be a leader? This is exactly what you wanted!"

Runaan didn't seem to share in the excitement. He kept his head bowed, his fingers tightening upon the chair as his lips thinned. "It was."

"Was?" Ethari's hand slid away. He looked at Runaan closely, bowing a little to see his face more clearly. "Runaan...do you no longer want to be an assassin?"

Runaan's jaw clenched. He shook his head––not at Ethari's question, but at his own thoughts. He started to push away from the chair, then pulled the chair back to drop into it again. His head hanging low, he slouched over his thighs and clasped his hands between his knees. "I don't know," came the nearly inaudible response. "Thing are... _complicated_ , now."

Ethari slowly pulled his own chair back and sat down. He rested his hand upon Runaan's shoulder and leaned towards him until his forehead pressed against Runaan's hair. "You're good at what you do, Runaan," he said softly. _"Amazingly_ good. I can't think of anyone else who would have been able to find me so quickly, or who would have been able to take on an entire group of assassins alone. This is your skillset. You deserve this." He waited for a response, and when Runaan only shook he head again, Ethari gave his shoulder a light shake. "A wise man once told me that true strength comes from taking pride in your accomplishments," he said. "You should be proud of your abilities. It's what makes you who you are."

Runaan lifted his head slightly and cast Ethari a faint smile. "A wise man, huh?" came the wry response. "Sounds vaguely familiar." He straightened a little more an let out a deep sigh. "I suppose community _does_ function best when all members preform to their best abilities."

Ethari squeezed Runaan's shoulder and sat back with a grin. _"Exactly!_ This is an opportunity, Runaan. Not just for you, but for everyone." He waved his hand in a wide gesture towards the door. "You'll have people looking to you for guidance, now. Don't teach them Mora's ways. Teach them _yours._ You're not like her."

The nearly hopeful look on Runaan's face immediately darkened. "I nearly was," he muttered.

_Oh, no you don't,_ Ethari thought. _I'm not letting you talk yourself into withdrawing again._ He grabbed Runaan's hands between his own and held tightly. "You're not like her," he repeated firmly. "And you never will be. You have too much integrity to let yourself walk down that path, Runaan. I know you'll be a great leader. It's who you're meant to be."

Runaan stared at him for a long moment. A faint flush of color rose to his cheeks, and he pulled his hands away as he rose to his feet. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he crossed to the wall, where the bow-blade prototype had been propped up in a corner. "This bow you made is exemplary," he said as he picked it up to admire the workmanship. "I didn't have a chance to tell you how well it worked. I noticed that it––"

"I love you."

Runaan froze. He stared down at the bow, and Ethari could almost _see_ the thoughts racing through his mind. Rising from his seat, Ethari drew closer to him.

"I know it's fast," he said, "and I know you probably aren't ready for it, but...I wanted to you know. I love you, Runaan."

Runaan didn't respond. He didn't even look up. His shoulders grew tense, the bow quivering in his grip, and as the silence grew taut between them, Ethari realized that he had pushed too far. Cheeks hot, he ducked his head and backed away. What had he said that? It was too soon! And after all the problems the two of them kept having––

"Will you stay with me?"

The question was soft and quiet. Ethari paused to look first at Runaan, then towards the door, and finally back again. "If you need me to," he offered weakly. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, though. If you want, I can––"

Runaan set the bow down and approached him. "I meant...will you stay _here,_ " he clarified. "In my home. With me."

Runaan's expression was unreadable. Ethari stared at him, desperately trying to run the request through his mental 'Runaan to normal person' translator. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but––

"Are you asking me to move in?"

Runaan broke eye contact and cleared his throat. He looked away and scratched the side of his nose to cover his lips, then shrugged and spread his arms wide as though resigning himself to a surrender. "I have plenty of space, Ethari. There's no reason not to share it. You can have the training room downstairs. I don't really need it, and there's room enough for you to turn it into a personal workshop. And..." His cheeks colored again, and he pointedly turned his back. "My bed is big enough for two," he mumbled as he straitened the chairs at the table. "You wouldn't need to bring in another."

Runaan picked up the scroll and pretended to read it. As Ethari watched him, a slow smile began to curl across his lips. _He's embarrassed,_ Ethari realized. _He doesn't want to admit he actually wants me here._ Ethari wandered over to stand beside him, his smile warming as he pressed his palms against the table top and leaned upon them. "What happened to not rushing things?" he teased.

The scroll crumpled in Runaan's hands. He tossed it carelessly to the floor, abandoning all pretense as he turned to Ethari. His expression was open and honest, his brows drawn together as he locked his gaze intently upon Ethari's. "I thought I had lost you," he said in an almost angry voice. "This could have been..." He broke off to sweep his hand through his hair, then took hold of Ethari's shoulders to grip them tightly. "Ethari, I don't want to miss another moment with you," he said earnestly. "And I'm tired of constantly going back and forth with you, and never knowing whether or not we understand one another. My heart is yours, if you'll have it." His grip slid from Ethari's shoulders to his upper arms. "Will you stay with me?" he asked again.

Ethari couldn't suppress the wide smile stretched at his lips. His hands stole up to cup Runaan's face, his thumbs smoothing over his chin to caress his lower lip. "This almost sounds like a proposal," he murmured.

"If that's what it takes to keep you."

Runaan began to lean forward. His lips parted and Ethari started to incline his head––and just as their lips were about to meet, Ethari turned his face away with a careless shrug.

"I don't know," he sighed in mock indecision. "We've only had one date, remember? And I never got that bouquet of potatoes you promised me."

Irritation flashed in Runaan's vibrant eyes. "You were supposed to give _me_ the bouquet," he snapped back. "I was expecting it for several nights after we parted!"

They stared at one another. Ethari began to laugh, and after a moment, Runaan broke into a fit of poorly smothered chuckles. As he dropped his hands from Ethari's arms, Ethari caught them in his own.

"You know what the best part of this is?" Ethari said as he caressed Runaan's knuckles. "I don't even _like_ potatoes."

"Oh, Ethari." Runaan titled his head and pulled one hand free to press his palm against his chest. "You've broken my heart."

"Have I?" Ethari leaned down to brush his lips against Runaan's jaw. "I'd best mend it, then." He titled his face, his lips parting as they neared Runaan's. This time, their lips met. Ethari curled his arms around Runaan, crushing him against his chest as the kiss deepened from a question to a demand. As Runaan sank into his embrace, Ethari backed him up against the table, then broke the kiss to grab his legs and lift him. Runaan huffed as Ethari dropped him atop the table, his arms around wrapping around Ethari's neck to bring him back. As their lips met again, Runaan's legs clamped around Ethari's hips, his thighs tightening as he locked his ankles together and pulled Ethari closer. Heat rose between them; their hearts beat faster, more frantically as their hands griped and squeezed and explored. Ethari bore down upon Runaan, until Runaan finally had to brace himself upon one hand to keep Ethari's weight from shoving off the table entirely. He nipped hungrily at Ethari's lips, his jaw, his neck, even as his hands stole under the cropped length of Ethari's shirt to seek out the nipples he now knew to be so sweetly sensitive––

A loud knock at the door jarred them from their passion.

Ethari jerked back in surprise, and Runaan nearly _did_ fall from the table as he scrambled to compensate for the sudden absence of Ethari's support.

"Who––"

"Ignore it." Throwing a dark glower over his shoulder, Ethari smoothed Runaan's hair back and started to lean towards him again.

Another knock, this one louder than before. "Runaan?" came Tiadrin's muffled voice. "Are you home?"

"Damn it..." Runaan pushed urgently against Ethari's chest, and Ethari stepped back unhappily to let him scoot off the edge of the table. The two of them quickly straightened their clothing and calmed their breaths, and as Runaan crossed to the door to answer it, Ethari carefully adjusted the sash that hung from his belt. He was still worked up from touching Runaan––and anyone looking at him right now would be able to see it.

Oblivious to Ethari's discomfort, Runaan threw the door open to greet his friend. "Tiadrin," he acknowledged formally.

"Hi, Runaan." At the threshold, Tiadrin sniffled and ran the heel of her palm against one eye. "Do you have time to spare? I'm..." She trailed off and sniffled again. As she ducked her head to hide her face against the burbling baby she held, Runaan's brows furrowed in concern.

"Of course, Tiadrin," he said, and held the door open wider in invitation. "Come inside."

"No. I need air." Tiadrin titled her face up to wince at the shimmering enchantment of Silvergrove's protective illusion and heaved a gusty sigh. "I'm just so _overwhelmed,"_ she said in a shaky voice. "Is your ankle better? Would you come walk with me?"

Behind Runaan, Ethari approached the door to see what was happening. "What's wrong, Tiadrin?" he asked worriedly. "Were you crying?"

Tiadrin snapped her gaze to him. Her eyes widened, and her voice grew hard in shock. "Ethari? What are you doing here?"

Ethari offered a sly grin and leaned against the door frame. "Getting ready to move in."

Tiadrin gaped at him. "Wait, _what?"_ she squawked. "When did _that_ happen?"

"Never mind that," Runaan interrupted impatiently. "Tell us what happened. How can we help?"

"Here," Ethari offered as he extended his hands towards Tiadrin. "Let me take Rayla for you."

"No!" Tiadrin tightened her grip around Rayla protectively and pulled back in alarm, then caught herself as both Runaan and Ethari stared at her in surprise. "I mean, no," she said more calmly. "You two stay here and get back to..." her eyes skipped briefly to Ethari's sash, "...whatever it was you were doing. Don't let me interrupt."

"But you were––"

"I'm fine." Tiadrin took another step away, this time towards the stairs that led down the length of the tree. "I've already forgotten what it was. Oh, look!" Tiadrin glacned upwards as though seeing the sky for the first time. "Is that the time? I should go find Lain. Excuse me." She started for the steps, then stopped abruptly to turn right back around. "You're both coming to my house for dinner," she hissed savagely, "and you will tell me _everything,_ do you understand?"

Without waiting for a response, she began to trot down the steps. Runaan and Ethari leaned around the door frame to watch her disappear around the curve of the tree trunk, then leaned back to look at each other in confusion.

"What was that about?" Ethari wondered.

"We'll find out at dinner, I suppose."

Ethari hummed and scratched absently between his horns before eyeing Runaan in renewed interest. "Shall we get back to whatever it was we were doing, then?"

"Oh?" Runaan's eyebrow arched in mock curiosity. "And what might that have been?"

With a predatory smirk, Ethari curled one hand against Runaan's waist and pulled him closer. "You tell me," he murmured. "This was all your idea."

"Hmm..." Runaan let Ethari pull him to his chest, though he kept one hand splayed over Ethari's stomach to keep from being smothered again. "I suppose if you were to invite me upstairs, I wouldn't say no," he mused coyly.

Ethari inclined slightly, his other hand rising to the other side of Runaan's waist. "You suppose?"

Runaan's face tilted up. "I _definitely_ wouldn't say no," he amended.

Ethari inclined further, his forehead pressing against Runaan's, and when he spoke, his voice was nearly a growl. "In that case, consider the invitation extended."

Runaan's hand slid down to tug at Ethari's sash. "Among other things, apparently."

With a rich chuckle, Ethari captured Runaan's lips and enveloped him in a possessive embrace. As their bodies melded together again, they stumbled back into the privacy of what was now _their_ home, _their_ sanctuary: the shelter they would spend the rest of their lives building together.

The door closed behind them.

**The End**

That's it! That's the whole fic! Thank you everyone for reading, and for all the comments you've left for me over the course of the story! I appreciate them all, and I'm so happy the fic was so well received! I don't have any plans to write anything else, but if I latch onto a good idea, I'll probably be back to share it. :)

If you'd ever like to snoop on me, my Tumblr handle is danikalore. I don't update it much, I'm terrible at interacting with the notes section, and I hardly ever add new people to my watch list because I'm terribly antisocial on social media and don't like cluttered feeds, but sometimes I post things that are moderately interesting. Feel free to take a peek!

Much love to all!


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